What About The Little Sister?
by keroaucinahackney
Summary: Alwyn's story has never been told. But how does the youngest Niall feel about her older brother dashing off to take on their half-sibling and the death of another. About her family bein torn apart and the insufferableness of being kept out of the way.
1. Prolouge: chasing memories

**Hello all! **

**This would be my first fan fic. All comments and critisims welcome.**

**thanks alot**

**keroauc in a hackney.**

**DISCLAIMER: ALL RIGHTS BELONG TO CATE TIERNAN**

Prologue: Chasing Memories

The sea was always cold. Today it was stormy also; I tried not to make that into a bad omen. Hunter, my incredibly annoying, self-righteous, elder brother, had left for New York, Athar tailing after him as usual. Now my lovely sea, that had been calm and clear his morning, reared and bucked and smashed like no other. I would not make a connection. This was just typical British weather, not an omen!

Even through all my drearily unconvincing-convincing, my mind nagged at me: "There are no coincidences". I shook my head, sending my stubbornly untameable hair flying, clearing those thoughts away. Hunter will be fine, he's strong and well trained, and Athar is there to look after him, so he will eat and wear clean socks and not get rotting vegetables thrown at him. HE. WILL. BE. FINE. He has to be.

I sat on my rock for the rest of the day staring listlessly out to sea; I always did this when I was sad or trying to remember. I was only four when our parents disappeared, Hunter was eight and Linden six, I knew it was spiteful but I envied the bank of memories they had. For years I made them tell me the stories, rather selfishly considering I knew how much it hurt them to remember. I had always felt numb not truly remembering what I had been missing, so I strived to garner the memories my brother's held, then maybe I would feel the hurt as well and they would let me help them. Then Linden went and got himself killed and nearly got Hunter convicted, I had never been angry with Mum and Dad for leaving us, I always had faith that they had a reason, but the night when I came home and found one brother dead and the other not waking up, I snapped. My blood boiled and seethed through out me, I stormed about the house using words that would have made the entire navy blush. I smashed a window and kicked a hole in the living room wall. I seriously considered diving right into death and hauling Linden's dead arse back out, yelling at him then sending him right back in there. And I flooded the toilet. It was then we dicovered my affinity for water.

I had always liked the water; in fact one of my most solid memories with my parents includes it. It was sunny that day and my fourth birthday, right at the start of July, Mum and Dad had packed the car and blindfolded me in the backseat between my brothers, so they could make sure I didn't peak, of course they also took my state of temporary blindness as an opportunity to torture me. I never like being tickled, that journey is the reason. Dad drove as always, and Mum sang songs in front seat. She had a beautiful voice, Wyndenkell's are famously musical, I think it's because spell craft is a lot like making music. Finally after what seemed like an entire French revolution, though I am informed it was only and hour, the car stopped. Excitement coiled in my stomach and I giggled nervously as I felt my dad lift me out of the car. Wherever we where it smelled different, salty and raw as apposed to the smells of farmland and grass that I was used to. I could hear rhythmic rumbling, laughter and squawking. My hands gripped whoever was pushing me in an unknown direction and I felt the ground change from solid to soft, grainy and scratchy. My blindfold was removed . . .and before me the beach . . . and better, beyond that: the sea!

We spent the entire day there; we built the best sandcastles, with windows, moats and a drawbridge, Hunter's was perfect, Lindens almost exactly the same as hunters. Mine was the messiest, my drawbridge collapsed and my moat was more of a puddle but I had a dragon and a seaweed flag so mine was actually the best. Mum had made one of her famous picnics, filled with corned beef sandwiches, apples from our little orchard and the most fabulous fairy cakes that ever donned the planet. My one was special, it had a picture of a faery, my favourite from the book of tales that had been presented to me earlier at breakfast, and four candles round the edge. My Dad taught me how to swim and when I put my chubby little pale feet in the froth of the breakwater, I had never felt more alive. My Dad was impressed at how quickly I learned to swim; he said I was faster than either of the boys. I was extremely pleased at that, being the youngest and the only girl, even then I knew I would have to prove myself as a person and a witch.

By the time I had gotten my fill of the seaside the sun had set and the stars started to poke out of the velvet sky, my brothers and I thoroughly exhausted and sandy fell asleep in the backseat as soon as we where all belted in. Dad carried us one by one to our beds and tucked us in, he kissed me on my forehead and smoothed my curls as he always did.

A mere two weeks later he did the exact same thing, then I woke up to a strange feeling, I was being suffocated by a black cloud in my dream and I woke up screaming. Mum would always rush to my bedside when I had a nightmare, but this time I waited and she didn't come, I gathered my courage and sneaked over to my parents room, only to find it empty. The bed made, curtains open, a greenish hue cast about the room. Then I ran to my brother's room and snuck into Linden's bed to wake him, Hunter was a grumpy bugger if you woke him, still is mind you. Linden had the courage I didn't. He led the way with the torch he got in his spy kit from Uncle Beck and Aunt Shelagh for his birthday, I clutched the back of his pyjamas as we descended the stairs, we searched in all our best hide-and-seek places but Mum and Dad definitely weren't in the house. By this time I was sobbing, Linden comforted me by saying that they had probably been called on grown-up coven business, but he offered to stay in my room with me.

When we woke up in the morning, the rain came down in sheaths, there was still no sign, we shook Hunter awake, he was the oldest and he would know what to do. After he had gotten over his usual grumpiness, he applied the same logic as Linden, they where away on coven business and that he was in charge until they returned. By night we had no word and my four-year-old imagination had conjured up ideas of dragons (The bad variety of course. Most dragons are lovely), evil witches and dungeons. I had already dressed us up in armour, Hunter our leader, with his gallant sword. Linden with his spy kit so we could find out where they had been taken and I armed with my vast knowledge of mythical creatures and fairy tales would make sure we did not get harmed on our quest to free our parents from evil's clutches.

Uncle Beck called. Even in his iron voice I sensed his worry. He told us to stay indoors and wait for him to come and get us, he tried to find one of our neighbours to stay the night with us but he couldn't get a hold of any of our coven. We know now that was because they had all fled. We all slept in the same bed that night, I squashed in the middle, my brothers both fell asleep eventually but I never, I just listened to the rain, and wondered why it seemed as if the sky was crying.

My back had become numb from lying on the hard rock, the sky had darkened and I could feel the splash of the approaching tide on my bare feet. I knew it was time to go back up to the house, Aunt Legh was an awful worrier and even though she would never intrude on me her mind would be panicking, I lay there a little longer watching the stars blink to life in the sky. Astronomy wasn't my best subject but I could tell you the stories of the constellations, my love of mythology had not left me as I gathered birthdays. My fear for Hunter had not ebbed away either, but I became aware of another feeling towards my brother, there was a tiny little thread of hope mixed in there, something would happen to make my brother happier. Of that I became certain.

I dipped my hand into the sea and spread my sense's, I let the pulse of the ocean fill me up. It was calling "Goodbye" to me. With that I jumped down from my rock and ran up the beach and through the dunes to the house that had been my home for eleven years.

The Eventide household was old crumbling, with no central heating and a myriad of bats in the loft. It was also loud and full of life, with thirteen people at its full occupancy it was hard to imagine it a quiet place. I stopped at the back gate, looked in at the warm kitchen; it had been a sad place for the last wee while. What with Linden gone and Hunter being blamed, my coming into stronger powers than expected and my lack of control over them, the house had been fraught. Grief, worry and anger had been the prevailing emotions, so much so it had lead Cara to move out and run to Paris, of course she was extremely successful there, she was one of those perfect people that everything came so easily to. Hunter and Athar also hardly came home anymore, Hunter at least had a decent excuse of tracking down awry witches and kicking the firmly back into the light. Athar just didn't like it here.

Now there were just six of us. It seemed very empty and you could actually get a shower with hot water. But our music was beginning to come back, the lines around Aunt Legh's mouth had loosened and Uncle Beck even cracked a smile the other day, granted it was because Mairith tripped over Dixby's tail and did a fabulous Flying Gwendola down the stairs and crash landed into Siobhan, who was sitting in the armchair on the phone. It was a tangle of blonde hair, legs and the phone cable. I hadn't laughed so heartily since Linden left us. I had come downstairs to breakfast humming and old song and relishing in the summer. With no normal school and hours of free time ahead of me, I began to come back to life, began to leave all the hate I had behind. But I still saw those feeling's in Hunter's eyes, he was tenacious and I knew he wouldn't be able to let them go until he had answers, until he had made sure what had happened to us would never happen again. My heart broke for him, I knew he couldn't guarantee that for everyone. In our next circle I had sent a prayer to the goddess to help my brother let go even a little amount those emotions, enough so that he could be happy. My faith that our parents had left us so we could have a good life had returned, wherever they where I knew they would be sad that Hunter was so unhappy, so wrathful. I realised now that the little slither of hope I felt was maybe the possibility that my brother could find happiness. If he got over his bloody stubbornness.

That strengthened my resolve to be happier, to keep my brooding to a minimum. I ran up through the back garden, rubbed Dixby's ears as he bounded to greet me, and smiled at Aunt Legh as she held the door open for me. I could feel the hope beaming out of us all that night. As Samhain left us with a new year, my family would finally let the dead rest.


	2. Chapter 1: Winter in Westmare

**Hello all again,**

**Sorry it took me so long to update, but unfortuneately I was hit by the evil of writer's block. T****hankfully it didn't last long and we have a chapter.**

**Just a few notes: **

** I couldnt find the name of the fifth cousin so in honour of my own newest little cousin I have named her Isla, if anyone knows her real name however I will gladly put it right.**

**I have named all of the places myself, i niether know if they exist or cast aspertions on thier existance, but all places and establishments within them are straight frommy mind and not from a corpreal world. **

**DISCLAIMER: ALL RIGHTS ARE RESERVED TO CATE TEIRNAN.**

* * *

Chapter 1: Winter in Westmare.

I was in between awake and sleep. The period when your body is so heavy, like lead, that you cannot move it and because it is so incredibly comfortable you don't want to either. My mind was the only thing working and even at that I still knew neither what I was nor where I was. Strangely enough I wasn't scared. I wasn't anything. Not even a mass of energy combusting in the universe. More I was something before that explosion, the nothingness - the void. My stomach didn't have the coil of tension but relaxed itself into just being. My head didn't pound and my hand clench with pain.

I could sense the half-light of early winter mornings and the murmurs of life started to break through cushiony sleep. The kettle purred as it was filled again, Uncle back slammed the door as he came back with the papers. One of my cousins was singing in the shower, it was the latest p!nk (who spells their name with an exclamation point. It is ridiculous) song so I'm guessing it was Marith. She is the only one who likes that horrible excuse for music. Then my lovely sleep was shattered. By the wrenching open of my door and the light being unceremoniously switched on and off. "Wakey-Wakey! Rise and shine Ally bally bee!" roared one or other of my cousins, I suspect it was Isla, but they all sound the same on sleepy ears. I flinched automatically at my childhood nickname. After all Ally Bally was a boy! And one with mother problems! I never got the connection. Groaning and pulling the covers over my head was my only response, I heard footsteps running up the stairs. Whoever had woken had called on reinforcements. That never spelled out a healthy way to wake up. I leap from my nice, soft, warm, bed into the stark air of my room yelling all the while: "okay, okay! I'm up! No need for buckets of water or tickling or any other form of torture!" by this time Siobhan had joined Isla and they where laughing their heads off at my morning grouchiness. Stomping past them to the bathroom I conjured up several ways to wipe the peppy-too-early smiles from their perky little faces.

Breakfast, as always in the Eventide-Niall homestead, was an event. Sometimes there where arguments, sometimes food fights, nearly always a "GET BACK UP THOSE STAIRS! YOU ARE NOT WEARING THAT!" from Uncle Beck and a busy Aunt Legh, swirling about making sure we all have a decent breakfast. Why GM:TV is needed in the background I'll never know, we are never short for morning entertainment. As mental as it is; its always warm and comforting, like the old fleecy jumper you put on when the frost sets in. This morning however had to be of the funniest breakfasts of my life. It started out as usual. Pass the toasts and how may eggs type of morning, when Marith pranced down the stairs in her usual exuberant fashion, and sat down like nobody's business, now Isla spilling her tea should've been my first hint to look up from the paper, but generally Marith is just wearing something not appropriate for school, or within the confines of the school's uniform policy. When Aunt Legh let out a scream however, that prompted me to peak over the police beat column (Mr. Dunn, the towns granddad, had his bike stolen again, they will probably find it in the dunes or in Tesco.) and burst out laughing. Marith affronted started too squeal at me, while Siobhan and Isla clutched their sides desperately trying not also too laugh. My eyes went from Aunt Legh, who hadn't moved and still had her mouth open and was dripping porridge on the floor, to Marith, whose eyes where desperately seeking an escape route. Then all hell broke loose. Marith had finally dyed her hair.

As Aunt legh banged on about self-actualisation and a positive self-image. It's her latest fad: Annoying Self Help books. Next she will have us writing down our goals and visualising ourselves achieving them. At least with this fad we get to eat fudge donuts in the open again instead of under the cover of darkness. Uncle Beck sat glowering in his chair, waiting for Aunt Legh to finish and Marith to stop screeching and crying to get his word in. His patience paid off and I think the windows actually rattled at his roars this time. Now I know its not nice to laugh at other peoples misfortune, but when Marith starts to pout and go all daddy's little angel and Uncle Beck falls for it, it is extremely hard not to fall about laughing.

Half an hour, several broken mugs (including my Nemo one from Disney, so not happy about that) and a lot of restraint on the uninvolved parties to not laugh later, I was out of the house and drudging my way to another day of school. It was starting to get really cold, winter had set in. and let me tell you walking along a coastal path in the British winter is not fun! The sea turns into pale grey; it looks infected and malignant, squirming and yelling in the pain of a silent disease. The winds that blows off it are biting, salty and cold it gets in to every cut and sore you have, leaving it newly open and seeping. It can chill you for days so you cant really get warm or comfortable. The winter here is brutal. You normally need four layers for warmth and two for waterproofing. Left over laughter still bubbled in me though it's a small defence against the cold; I happily made my way into the village. Our house was quite remote, surrounded by fields and forests, the silence was nice but when it took half an hour just to walk into town it can be quite annoying, especially since I have another forty five minutes on a smelly, noisy, teenage populated bus to get to the nearest high school. Our village, Westmare, was too small for it's own high school so all the local kids got bussed into Upper Lowe, the nearest town considered cosmopolitan, meaning that it had a "Gregg's" and a park filled with smashed bottles. It is certainly not a nice place.

I loved Westmare; I had been my home since I was four years old. I loved its tinyness and all its crazy characters. I loved how you couldn't get lost and nobody locked their doors. I loved how families had been here forever and I loved how magic was at the heart of everything here. Almost everyone who lived in Westmare was a part of our coven, Vineag. We where an old fishing town and the remnants still hung in the air, decaying. The harbour now only held Finn Leven's boat: the catcher. It was a small rusted thing; with peeling mint paint and nets that had been mended countless times. The promenade was dotted with benches and light posts that had fairy lights strung between them. It was a pretty place to walk at night. Across the road from the promenade lay our single line of weather beaten shops. Our butcher, baker and Tesco metro could all be found here as well as the florists, Temptations café and baby picture house. The picture house is the pride and joy of the town, along with our memorial garden to the five minute visit of Dame Judi Drench around twenty years ago, it is an original nineteen twenties cinema. Still intact are the worn uncomfy velvet seats and its original sign depicting what will play that week. The four showings are sold out every week, we even put up with the stale popcorn and cold tea. There isn't really a lot to do here. Behind the row of shops, dotted around the place are the cottages and hide a way's of the grand and mental inhabitants of Westmare. We also have our beach and bird watching sanctuary. We have a primary school as well; it consists of four rooms and a swing.

When I entered the thriving hub of my village, I headed for my best friend, Tana Moran's house. Tana and I became friends at the first circle I attended here, she shouted at some of the boys for laughing at my hair and telling me I had been abandoned because of it, I ran out of the room crying and then Tana rushed out to see if I was okay. She had big warm brown eyes and let me cry on her shoulder for the rest of the night. We have been practically inseparable ever since. Her father left her and her Mum when she was barely out of the womb; so it's just been the two of them forever. They are incredibly close. Her mum converted the downstairs of their home into a Wiccan supply/bookshop called Aife's Alphabet. Tana and I work there to help her out. It's an incredibly comforting place to go. It always smells of the herbs of the season. Right now its warm and heavy cinnamon, it wraps around you like a blanket and sooths out all your tension. The four rooms of the shop are dedicated to a different product, but the cool thing is each room still looks like it is somebody's house.

The kitchen is where all the herbs are kept. One wall has hundreds of little wooden boxes each with a lacquered label depicting its contents and highly polished handle. The large wooden table is covered with mortars, pestles and cauldrons of every shape size and nature. At one end there is a small clear patch that has two chairs placed at it. This is known as the gossip fountain. It is here that all the news and mishaps are revealed and spread; the spot has seen everything from affairs to blue haired children with motorcycle boots. A huge antique aga still sits in a tiled alcove and the wide windows look out onto the vast back garden.

In the first living room bookshelves line three of the walls only gapping for the door and two windows. Each shelf was stuffed till it was bowed and groaning with volumes and dust seemed to cling to the air. The fourth wall and the one opposite the door housed an enormous fireplace that had two comfy well-worn leather armchairs in front of it. The books in this room seemed to whisper their contents to you, each eager to spill their contents to you. This room was filled with books of magik.

The other living room, across the hallway, had bookcases on all four walls since it was devoid of a fireplace. These shelves contained non-magical books, novels and non-fiction. They didn't whisper like the others, they didn't live and breathe. But their knowledge was as quiet and mortal as their authors. Bright and brief the lives and encounters are but those experiences have a lasting stain, like beetroot on a white tablecloth. They become beloved memories that stay with you for all time. The middle of the room was occupied with a couch and a couple of miss matched armchairs. An old desk sat behind the couch with a reading lamp poised upon it. This was by far my favourite room in the house. I loved all of the novels that spoke of love and life, as it should be. I loved the books that painted me pictures of the wonders of the world and the ones that took me down alleys and through jungles. I loved the ones that made me think and the ones that made me cry, the ones that make me happy for days and the ones that touch my heart.

The last, but certainly not least, room in the house was the one that had been stripped of most of its homeliness. In this room all of the magical supplies where kept. Shelves and tables where covered with everything from candles to oils and cloths to runes. Even the windowsills where not safe, as they displayed every crystal that could ever be needed. It was lovely in the summer when the windows caught the sun and the refractions where cast all over the room. Everything in this room was chaotically ordered. Element bowls where stacked inside each other and twenty high, slumped against a wall. Robes where hung across the back of a chair and pentacles had been tied to a curtain pole. In a locked armoire we kept the athames and spelled items. Only Mrs. Moran had a key and she only opened it for extremely trustworthy customers. Everything had its place and everything stayed there. If you where a first timer, then you would need a guided tour but it was fun to watch people hunting for items. Tana and I would normally bet on how long it would take them to find what they desired. The loser had to tidy up the two book rooms at the end of the day.

They had kept the upstairs of their house as their living quarters. There where stone stairs that led from the back garden to the second floor, I headed up these now. As always the Moran household was chaos in the morning, this I never got, since there are only two of them. But for two people they can loose a lot of things a lot of the time. I walked into their rather eclectic living room, they never locked their door, the two of them ran around like hamsters on speed, looking for separate but equally important lost items, unnoticed I headed into the kitchen and I poured myself a cup coffee. For the next twenty minutes I read the rest of the paper, while random sequels and bangs alerted me to the on going search in the rest of the house. I had finished the riveting article on the endangerment of our countryside from tourists and their overly polluted children. Why we get our local extremist to write all the newspaper articles I'll never know. It doesn't actually add up to an informed and insightful newspaper, but it does afford a happy insight into William Docherty's, the extremist, mind. His particular brand of politics focused on what the rules said we where supposed to do and not what feeling humans are inclined to do. It was fun to argue with William especially after circles when he had a few glasses of wine. Now I was about to start the article on the violation of parking out with the vehicle hierarchy system when I noticed that there was no longer any thumping in the rest of the house, I gathered my bag and downed the remaining gulp of coffee and headed back out the door, I turned and rapped my knuckles upon the front door once again.

Tana opened with the usual flourish and flare. She is definitely the town drama queen, second only to Marith and between them it's a definite tie. You can't help but notice Tana, she doesn't go out of her way to blend in or make excuses for herself, I've always hidden myself. Tana is the light and I hide close by in the shadow that she casts. Despite her extroverted-don't-hold-back-nature she is one of the nicest people you will ever meet and she has a strong heart. We had grown up together, played at faeries and fell of our bikes. I taught her how to bake and she taught me how to put on eyeliner. We only had a few secrets between each other. Today, as we walked to the bus stop, which is more of an iron railing along the pier, she was unnaturally quiet normally she regaled me of tales of her incredibly interesting night, which included a movie and hot chocolate. I usually didn't have to buy movies, Tana always described them in so much detail that I never had to watch them. It was a usual grey day, grey sky above, grey road below and grey waters beyond. I know that most people find this time of year depressing, but I like the cold. It is always so empty and bare that it allows you to breath. Only the air and the sea remain, the earth has been scraped back and the only light that lasts is white. It smells clean as well, pure, with just stark salty air. It was nice also, to get all wrapped up in warm clothes and walk 'till your cheeks turned pink. Then you get inside, to a nice warm fire and a cup of tea and you can slowly heat up with a good book and a blanket. In fact that is what most of my evenings entailed. I have an amazingly interesting life, I know.

In teen American movies the entering the school scene always looks so happy. The sun is always shinning the students are all so happy and laughing and "oh my god I haven't seen you in ages" and in reality ages is a week and a half. Then they skip hand-in-hand towards the glass fronted building eager for what delights await them inside. Real school isn't like that. Especially real British school. It's more dreary brick buildings with leaky ceilings and wonky floors. We all stare mindlessly around in our itchy uniforms and pray for a little sunshine, or a fire drill. Lessons are dull, hallways are dull and the people are dull. Nothing interesting ever happens at "GREYSON LOWE SECONDARY SCHOOL".

I was in my fifth year at this hellhole called an institution, and the worst part is I volunteered to come back this year. I could've left last year but no, I decided to go and try and get myself some a-levels. And believe me: THEY ARE NOT FUN! In first period I had to get my mind into whole different language, the French teacher Mademoiselle Williams (she fools no one we all know she's from Bristol.) insists that no English be spoken in her classroom at anytime. This would be a hard task on a caffeinated, awake brain, but on a barely alive brain it is near impossible. Today I sat at my usual seat near the old leaky window. By really concentrating on the little puddle of water and pushing my energy with its own I can make it mine, I could in theory control it make it move, but my special little power hasn't grown enough for me to handle that yet. When I try I either burst a water pipe or faint. For now I just let it talk to me, let each droplet show me its life. I can close my eyes and go with it though boiling, travelling, freezing and falling. Through rivers, lakes, streams and seas. I would spend hours doing it if I could. But it tends to make me dizzy and drained for a while if I do it for too long. It was frustrating knowing I had the potential to be a true water worker. There hadn't been a true one for centuries and some of the secrets of the water had been lost. I could feel them though, at the edges of my conscience they whispered and danced always just out of reach, always just a little too deep in the shadows. But I had learned patience at an early age, waiting for information, waiting for meals, waiting for everything really.

I felt my head begin to spin and retracted my senses form the puddle on the windowsill. As I did I felt something not normally expected in a school at half past nine. There was a whisper of excitement, a thrum around the students. Then there was something else and concentrate of energy, a witch. One I didn't recognise. That wasn't unusual though. I'm sure if people knew about the high concentrate of witches in this school they would rename it hogwarts. This part of the country has five separate covens, all of which send their children to this school. So it was most likely someone had been initiated and just come into their powers. Whoever it was though they where strong.

A long half an hour later the bell finally went, and we all crushed out into the corridors to head towards our next classes. Biology next and another hour of mindless dreaming. Sitting in the uncomfortable high stool while, Dr. Reynolds droned on and on about the differences in chlorophyll a and chlorophyll b, my mind wandered to the phone call I got from Hunter last night. I never expected to hear from him often, he normally got to caught up in the work to remember banal little things like calling home.

I had been sitting in the living room, we where all watching a movie, some mindless one that stared people off of "Eastenders" and should never ever be shown in public. Uncle Beck snored on the couch and Aunt legh and the cousins (as know collectively when more than two are together, more is just to tedious to list.) had become engrossed in the movie and I was absorbed in my second reading of "Pride and Prejudice" this week. We all jumped when the phone rang. We all became stiff when we sensed it was Hunter, a thousand bad thoughts running through our minds in the twenty seconds it took for Isla to pick up the phone.

"Hello Hunter…" she sounded so hesitant and we all stared at her face trying to read the emotions that crossed it, we all relaxed when a smile crossed her face and she blew out her breath. She got up off her place on the floor and handed the phone to me.

"Big Brother?"

"Little sister!" He sounded calm at least "How are you? Please tell me you're doing something useful and not just sitting reading a book?" I smiled, he knew me too well. But I knew him.

"AND I hope that you have eaten in the last three weeks and have had more than four hours sleep since you landed in America?" he chuckled, we both knew we couldn't change each other no matter how hard we tried. Then his voice became serious. He had told me of our half brother and his connections to Amyrath. I was worried that he would let his anger take over him once again and swing a punch before assessing the situation. But being temperate was not something Niall's where famed for. I knew there was something more to the situation than he was telling me, the hatred in his voice wasn't mere sibling rivalry, but he would tell me when he was ready. He started to tell me the story. Of how Selene and Cal escaped while they saved Cal's girlfriend from a burning building (someone obviously forgot to tell my half brother the proper way to break up with someone). He told me of how powerful she was, how much potential she had, how difficult her life was for her right now. Hmmm… a little more than professional interest there my dearest older brother. I kept my thoughts to myself knowing he would only get huffy and not tell me anything. He hesitated and warned me that I couldn't get mad at him after he had told me the next part. Never a good sign every time he makes me promise that I know he has done something really stupid and noble. He went into a house that inhabited two of the people who would gladly kill him with no other back up than a girl who has been studying the craft for a grand total of a month and a half. I could tell already that I was going to need a lot of self-restraint.

They where dead. My brother had a hand in someone's murder. I felt the bottom of my stomach drop put; I couldn't wrap my head around it. They where bad witches, bad people and he was saving someone's sister. But still a life had been taken. I couldn't justify it yet.

"So now that the bad news is out of the way, feel like some good?"

"Oh pray do tell, no wait let me guess, sky has become a hippy who talks about her heart and soul over morning tea?" he laughed

"No" he replied "but ill mention that to her." He paused I felt anticipation rising again "I heard from da." My heart literally stopped and all feeling rushed out of my body. "you heard wha…" I wasn't capable of coherent speech, I wasn't capable of thought. Hunter started to babble. He came to him over scrying. (Scrying with Morgan, so that was her name) and told him he was safe, that he knew about linden, and something about Mum. Then he got cut off. Hunter was speaking rapidly trying to deduce where Dad was but there certainly wasn't enough to go on, a seagull and a blue shuttered house could be anywhere. It could be five minutes down the road or in the Caribbean. But the hope had flared thrumming feeling back into my body. I had always had hope, a faith that they where okay and alive somewhere, but this was corporeal. Actual contact, I couldn't sit still, I suddenly had the urge, the need to fly to New York to join Hunter in the search. I battled within myself for the rest of the conversation. To go or to stay. When we said goodbye I grabbed my coat and shoes and headed down towards my rock. If anyone tried to stop me I didn't even notice.

Even when it was freezing and the water far out in low tide, my rock still held comfort. A quiet place for me to get my head together. One side of me planning plane tickets, calculating the money in my bank account. I was eager to go and discover and get the answers I knew I needed. More than that I wanted to see my parents, be with my brother to help him. I wanted to be with my family. Guilt stabbed me there. I had a family, who where probably sitting in the living room fighting the need to come and get me. I loved each of them so so much, they where the only family I had known apart from a few moth eaten memories. I never liked being this unresolved, it made me all panicky and unfocused. To calm my self I stared at the waves. They where so slow and steady, beating out their completive rhythm that I cannot quite put into words. The cold quite got to me after a while but I had my head straightened out a little more. I couldn't leave here right now as much as I wanted to. It would only give Aunt Legh more to worry about and Hunter was better at legwork than I was, after all it was a huge part of his job.

But sitting here now in a mundane classroom, listening to a mundane lecture and the mundane gossip of the class, my resolve to let him handle it wavered. My need to physically do something was growing, just sitting here learning things I didn't want to wasn't helping anyone. As my frustration level was reaching its peak class finally ended and I had the fifteen minutes of break to blow of some steam and get my head together.

Like at home where I have my rock to think, I have a place at school also. The library is a little safe haven for me. No one other than Mrs. Mcinesh, the librarian, and myself know it even exists. It's a small little room with two windows that look out over the greenhouses, bookcases jut out all over the place each filled with sun bleached volumes that have only been opened a couple of times. It smelled dusty and warm, like an old blanket. There where tables and chairs in a small cleared square in the centre. I walked around the bookshelves looking for something to capture my imagination and take my mind of reality. Mrs. Mcinesh wasn't here; you would probably find her gossiping in the staff room with the home economics teacher, Mrs. Bramble. Mind you their form of gossip was who makes the best fruit loaf in the county. It was nice and quiet, not even the hum of the playground could be heard in here. It was a nice place to be alone and you could fill up your head with facts or stories to keep your own thoughts at bay. Break was over and I never even realised, Mrs. Mcinesh came back with a half finished cup of tea and a packet of biscuits. "Alwyn! Didn't you hear the bell it went five minutes ago!" quickly I gathered my things and rushed off towards to my history class, yelling goodbye to Mrs. Mcinesh as I went.

My history class is quite like French in that I can sit and daydream or work on my control, while the teacher, in this case Mr. Fitzgerald who was a thin wispy man who like to think he had stature and so bought clothes far to big for him and made him look like a curtain pole, droned on about whatever subject he felt inspired to tell us about this week. He was a bitter old man, from another time I suppose, angered at society today and it values. You could tell he would be the type of man to keep your ball if it went into his garden. I always wondered what his wife would be like. I imagine a small round woman, who smelled of baking and rose water. I can imagine her being a woman of amazing patience and self-control, especially to put up with Mr. Fitzgerald and all of his ranting. I imagine her to sit in a rocking chair opposite him, knitting, and saying "yes dear" whenever required. I wondered, while Mr. Fitzgerald wrote about the trenches on the board, if he had ever relaxed enough to enjoy himself, or if he had spent his entire life wound up about the injustice put upon him. No wonder he was so thin, he was probably too bitter to eat.

This class is always the longest. Mainly because Mr. Fitzgerald assigned us seats and mine is nowhere near a window to ponder out of. But normally I can catch up on my reading or do the spell work for Aunt Legh. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do yet, within the magical community; Tana was lucky she was all set to take over the shop and was happy to do it. I could do anything and the options made me dizzy. I was good at spell craft but nothing spectacular, Vinneag being a Wydenkell coven there was a lot of competition in that area and a lot where far more competent than me. A lot of people where involved in research and I would be happy doing that, but it was hard to get into and the international council of witches governs them. I don't think I could handle being tied under their laws and regulations. I never understood how Hunter did it. Then again he was always a stickler for guidelines.

Another class finished, another dreary hour over. Music was next and one of my favourite classes, second only to English. You could pretty much do what you liked in this class, especially when it was a period for us to work on our final composition, like today was. Another perk was that Tana was in my class, so at least I had someone to talk to. I got there before her, my history class being just down the hall, and took a place behind one of the keyboards. Tana came in smiling from ear to ear and I noticed with a full face of make-up. Not something she normally bothers with for school. I stared at her with a confused look but she only shrugged and sat down next to me. Miss. Temple the music teacher, also known as Caroline the best spell crafter in Vinneag, flourished in. she was a hippy through and through. Her clothes were all natural and eclectic. Her voice was tinkling and musical, and her make-up was some of the most complex eyeliner work I had ever seen. She was a lazy teacher in that she allowed us to pretty much do what we liked, she called it allowing us to expand creatively, but really she just wanted sit and read the latest blog on her favourite websites.

Tana was unusually quiet and concentrating on her, it was normally me who sat quiet and calm while she talked incessantly about something that had upset her during the day. Normally it was a snide comment from someone or other. Tana was quite sensitive to remarks about her or her friends, she got angry and upset and it annoyed her for days. I on the other hand was used to snide comments and was now practically impervious to the comments of others. I asked, "Are you okay? Do I need to go and hurt someone?" she giggled "No it's okay. Where were you at break I was looking for you?" this surprised me normally at break she would hang out with her friends from her drama class. "I was in the Library, where else would I be." She of course knew this but her mind was so scattered brained. When she was excited she tended to forget even the most simple things, like look both ways while crossing a road and pour boiling water into the cup not onto your hand. "Oh of course I forgot, but then you haven't heard have you" I shook my head giving her licence to continue. " There's a new boy and he is a witch," that explained the new energy I felt and the almost vicious fight that had occurred in the girl's bathroom over a mirror and mascara. "He's from Scotland and looks like they guy from the scotch beef advert, you know the one with kilt and tight t-shirt that chops wood in the forest not the one that is eating fish and chips in holey socks, but he is absolutely gorgeous, as good looking as your brother," Hunter had been the best looking boy in our school every girl that he wasn't related to was half in love with him. I was happy for the female population of Grayson Lowe's had found someone to fill the void left by my brother. As Tana giggled through her description of the boy, apparently he was in her maths class; I zoned out and nodded when I felt it appropriate. I was roused from my deep thinking by her calling my name, "Alwyn!" I turned startled to look at her " you know you really need to stop day dreaming I'll never understand how you get such good marks, especially when you never pay attention in class and miss important questions asked by your best friend!" I smiled at her mini tantrum "I'm sorry, I promise I will buy you a large hot chocolate with all the trimmings from temptations to make it up to you." She smiled and nodded; no one could resist a cup of temptations chocolate. "What did you ask?"

"I asked if you had heard from Hunter lately?" I hadn't told her about last nights phone call I wasn't quite ready to share the details of it yet. "Yes I heard from him last night, he thinks he has some …leads on our parents." Tana looked startled and I felt only a little guilty about lying to her. "Oh my goddess! Alwyn, that is incredible! What is he going to do? What are you going to do?" I knew I could tell her the truth here so I relaxed and lowered my voice, I didn't need the school gossip mill churning with this and I could trust Tana with secrecy and I needed her opinion on my options it would ease my mind a little to know what she was thinking. "Hunter is applying to the council for permission to investigate, he hasn't heard from them yet. And I. I spent the whole of last night considering jumping on a plane and the immense guilt I would feel about leaving." Tana nodded taking it in, like me she mulled things over, I knew I would get reasoned advice from her but not right away. We both went back to our compositions. Leaving the other to their thoughts.

At lunch we sat in one of the English classrooms. Neither of us could be bothered with the canteen and its mayhem and bad food. Neither where we particularly inclined to go down into town, what with the cold and only the promise of food that had been deep fried, we preferred to bring our own lunch and eat it in the quiet comfort of the deserted class. Today we resumed the debate that we had started last night. Jane Austen v. The Brontë sisters. Tana was on the side of the sisters while I was a fierce advocate for Austen, it kept us distracted and engaged for the entire hour of lunch and where only alerted to the beginning of fifth period by the wary first years entering the classroom.

Arriving in my English class a little out of breath and relieved to see that my teacher had not yet arrived, I started to make my way towards my usual seat, but was beckoned instead toward Marith, who was in may class resisting the subject. I didn't like entering into Marith's group in this class, there was always a tang of sweet perfume and the sound of giggles as the boys in the class watched them with their eyes out on stocks. We didn't have definitive cliques in this school, with so many of us being witches it was easy to relate to each other, but if I had to pick people who where considered the most popular I would pick Marith and her particular friends. She looked excited, probably over the new boy, but her smile faded a little when she saw my face, noticing the black circles underneath my eyes. She knew I had been fretting. "Are you okay? She asked in a hushed voice, like Tana she understood my want for secrecy. I nodded keenly aware of the others straining to hear us. "Did you want to ask me something?" I was in a hurry to get to my seat. It wasn't that I didn't like her friends I just never liked their hunger for gossip. It was like air to them. "Actually I wanted to inform you of something: Colin Nairn." She wiggled her eyebrows, suspected that this was the name of our elusive new boy. " I know about him, he is in Tana's maths class. She told me about him." Her face fell a little obviously upset that she had not been the one to tell me. But her disappointment was short lived. " Well then, lucky Tana. Because he is gorgeous beyond belief and has an accent to die for. He sat with us at lunch. Ryan befriended him. Apparently they have physics together." Ryan O'Neil was one of the biggest troublemakers at school and a bit of an arse, he and his friends definitely qualified for de-evolution. He was also Marith's at the moment boyfriend and a member of Tanolochan, the Lepvaughan coven nearby. I suspected he would not remain in Marith's favour for long though, not with new meat on the block. "I think he was interested in Lana, and they would make a fantastic couple." She waved her hand towards Lana Reynolds, daughter of doctor Reynolds and an infuriatingly perfect person. But unlike my cousin Cara, she was thourghly unlikeable, and she was another leggy blonde. Apparently those genes had run out by the time I came around. Lana smiled, and thanked Marith for her kindness and asked imperatively if she really thought so. As the avid discussion and subsequent planning of this match up engaged, I left for my own seat, having no desire to join in the discussion.

English was the only class I paid any attention to. I loved it. Loved the way words where put together to try and describe those infinite things, love and freedom and hatred. I loved to listen to the stories read out and the poems performed. It was the one class free of facts and confines, in this class I was allowed to let my imagination take over, I didn't have to reserve a part of my brain for concentration or questions. I was relaxed in here. I felt more like myself when surrounded by books and their tales.

I was just settled and prepared for another day of reading "Othello" when the classroom door opened again, our teacher, Mr. Purdie came in with a tall boy following him. I heard a squeal from the other side of the classroom, but I couldn't tear my eyes away to register who it was. They had been right: Colin Nairn was Hot. His face was strong and chiselled, all sharp lines and smooth contours. His hair was black, stood out against his pale skin, and on the long side, feathering his cheeks and forehead. The lips the adorned this beautiful face looked infinitely soft and strong. They weren't thin or fish like but smooth and slightly plump, I could feel my hand itching to trace them. And his eyes...oh his eyes, they where shaped liked almonds and lined with thick black lashes wasted on a boy, and they where blue. Unlike mine which where dark blue and in certain lights looked grey his where pale. Clear, crystalline blue, like a winter lake, and I couldn't look away from him. I was startled when he headed towards me and I wrenched my gaze away to look elsewhere. I had gone crazy obviously. While contemplating my complete and utter mental meltdown I realised the only place available in the class was the seat next to me, and for the first time ever I dammed my want solitude. I also sensed a wave of hatred from the room and I noticed every other girl eyeing me enviably. I couldn't blame them. I noticed he didn't hesitate or stumble but walked surely and with grace. I extended my senses a little I almost gasped at the amount of power coming from; it was raw, like he had come straight from the earth, but not. No it had a pulse, his energy was beating, and earth energy and witches connected strongly to that element had a steady energy, a constant thrum. Only water had a rhythm, I knew that only too well. But his was far stronger than mine, I began to wonder if he really was human and not a kelpie or demi-god, each equally believable.

My whole body tensed as I felt his senses search mine, he wasn't surprised to find another witch. Our eyes met again and he flashed a smile at, a small apologetic one, and I realised I was invading him; quickly I retracted into myself and blushed as he sat down.

Mr. Purdie started the lesson then, and the usual whispering took over the classroom. I stared down at my notebook focused on counting the lines and not on what was sitting next to me. But it was extremely hard to focus; I could feel his heat beside me and every movement he made. I tried my best not to breath least his scent, exactly like water on a warm day, would fill up my nose and make me loose all will power. I couldn't contemplate two whole hours of him next to me, I craved him and yet I wanted nothing to do with him. I could not help but feel he was here to torture me. This I certainly couldn't handle, not now. I would have to close my mind and sense focus on the words I was writing or hearing, he did not exist. It would only be for six hours a week, I would never have to see him outside of those six hours. I repeated this to myself over and over all the while trying not to become intoxicated in him, by his closeness and his being. In that class I did not here Igor plot nor Othello kill, topics that would normally hold my interest, but I switched from ignoring him to imagining him and it was driving me crazy.

As the bell went I ran, still stuffing my things into my bag, I didn't look back and I didn't cast my senses. I needed fresh air to stop my body shaking and cool my head off. But I knew I was in trouble.

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**Now I can relax and go to bed and you can read, i bid you adieu and ask you to review.**

**Keroaucinahackney.**


	3. Chapter 2: Yule Time and Rain

**Hello All,**

**Sorry about the long time inbetween updates, between christmas and writers block i had a hell of a time getting this out of my head and on to paper, typed i suppose would be more accutrate. **

**Thanks to all who reviewed my past chapters! **

**And on with the story!**

**KeroaucinaHackney**

**xx**

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NEITHER WICCA/SWEEP OR HMV (THOUGH I DO WORK FOR ONE OF THEIR COMPAINES SO I DONT FEEL TO BAD ABOUT USING THEM) OR CADBURY'S THOUGH I DO OWN A KILO BAR OF DAIRY MILK.**

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_Chapter 2: Yule Time and Rain_ December 15th

_Here I am again, the new school, new house, new room. This is the second move this year. Dad is getting more frantic in his search now. He feels that he is so close to achieving his goal, and he needs my help for just a little more time. Or at least so he says. The entire sum of "helping" I ever get to do is being a way into the covens that move near to. He may as well wrap a bow around me and throw me into the pit of manicured lionesses. _

_He says where we are now is special, here there is a convergence of five covens, each with a long and prestigious heritage. He is certain that in one of them the key to his Valhalla lies. He is starting with the Rowanwood coven, methodical as always. Academics only trust academics. This place is exactly the same as the rest though, but amplified. There is almost too much magic around here and because we came here in the winter I haven't had a chance yet to go out and explore, to absorb some of the magic from this place. The school here is horrible. The teachers are bored and unintelligent. The students are either giggling girls or blokes whose eye and fixated on the hems of the giggler's skirts. Which I couldn't help but notice where precariously short and certainly if you focus in on that and not on what is coming out of their mouths then certain instincts will be taken care of quite nicely. _

_Dad was pleased to hear that I had made friends with a girl named Lana Reynolds, apparently her father, Dr, Reynolds: a biology teacher at school, is the high priest of the Rowanwood coven that he is going to meet with first. I had sat with her at lunch, a guy from my physics class invited me to sit with him and his friends and Dad had warned me to be sociable. Lana seemed okay, as in maybe you could have a conversation with her from a distance and as long as the subject changed every fifteen minutes to account for her lack of brain mass. Another girl, Marith, was the most outspoken. She asked me questions in which I tried to politely answer. Told me about the school and its pupils. She pointed out all the tables in the cafeteria in which the Wiccan sat at. Theirs seemed to be the only one in which the covens mixed, the rest stayed together. I was thankful when the bell rang and could go to my next class._

_There something sparked my intrigue, someone. For all the talk of magick I hadn't actually felt anyone use it, or even extend their senses to get a read on me. Obviously they have been far too complacent for far too long. As I was walking to my seat the girl already sitting at the table looked up. She took on the usual surprised, glazed over expression but then I felt it, something I am not used to: another person feeling my magic, testing my abilities. The shock must have registered in my eyes because she blushed and retracted her senses quickly and spent the entire double period sitting stiffly and didn't look at me once. _

_It was entirely amusing._

_Teàrlach_

Yule is almost upon us now. It is funny how in most religions this time of year is an end, it is the middle of winter, nights are long, days are cold and depressing. In this part of the world we do not get the crisp clear winter mornings or the fresh snow. We get wet clouds, lots of sludgy mud and if we are really lucky some stodgy slush. So while others welcome Jesus birthday or light the eight candles, then snuggle in, close the windows and hibernate until March, we Wiccan's shake of all the dreary winterishness and welcome back the sun.

Aunt Legh is going all out this year with the preparations, for the past three days every witch in the coven that can cook has been in our kitchen, I being no exception. My culinary talents lie in baking and Aunt Legh practically threw the flour and scales at me when I came through the door after the last day of school yesterday. So far I have made enough fairy cakes to feed napoleons fifth regiment, enough apple crumble to fill up the hungry caterpillar and I have just been told that if I do not start on the gingerbread I will not be allowed to watch any of the BBC's drama adaptations for the next five years. Aunt Legh gets mean around sabbat time, she cannot relax until Gran has closed the Sun Ritual and everyone is happily tucking into our food and seen to be enjoying it. So for the next two days it's best to keep on her good side.

For those that who are not so good in the kitchen do not get off Scot-free. They actually have the least enviable job. They have to go out in the rain and howling gales and gather the wood for the fire, some covens in warmer climes can have bonfires outside and welcome the returning sun under the stars, we however have to make do with a very large fire in the hearth. Tana grumped and moaned when she came over because since she is culinary equivalent of a haemorrhage she got sent out in her ballet pumps and love heart tights to collect with the rest of them. Now she has returned sodden and with a hole in her tights.

"Peace offering!" I held out the bowl of icing to her. She humphed, grabbed a spoon and collapsed on the seat below her. A Tana without her usual sparkle is a sign of boy trouble. I gathered every weapon in my sympathetic arsenal and asked the dreaded question: "Who is he? Please tell me it is not Christopher Teal, I know that you had a little crush on him in P5 after he gave you a devil dukie plaster for the exceedingly painful and infamous paper cut, but the boy looks as if a mop attacked a rat and then someone glued it on to his head." That got a laugh at least and she had the decency to blush at her deepest secret. "Now that is just mean bringing that up! You know I am susceptible to caring guys! It is the consequence of watching every medical drama in existence with my Mum! And no, even with his amazing plaster applying abilities, that hair is just bad! No the boy would be Colin Nairn." She looked up at me, her brown eyes sheepish, as if I was going to scold her or throw my very cinnamony spatula at her. "Ah." Was my only reply. In the past month, the startling blue yes and lilting accent of Colin Nairn had captured the heart of every girl in the surrounding area. He had been quiet, which had gotten him labelled as the deep sensitive kind; this was only reinforced by the fact that he was taking art. Rachel Lavertty actually walked the ten miles to Aife's to purchase a book on the Italian Renaissance just because she had heard it was a period he greatly admired. It seemed like I was the only one who had received the inoculation against his good looks: the words that he spoke.

The day after his arrival at "GREYSON LOWE SECONDARY SCHOOL" he was still the only topic of discussion, even Tana and I had succumbed to the pull of talking about him, and avidly joined in Siobhan and Isla's discussion on him over digestive biscuits and the latest arrival from , this month it included: The Yeah Yeah Yeah's, PJ Harvey and the Ting Tings. (This one was Marith's. Try as we might she refuses to give up her hold on popular radio one music.) One of the girls from Kenamochran, the brightendale coven two towns over had found out that he lived with his Dad and that they moved a lot. Another had found out his Mother but time and cause where still undisclosed. The knowledge of that endeared the idea of him more to me. Space and distance was convincing my logic that he probably wasn't some sort of kelpie or daemon but just a strong well trained witch and now he also became the broken hearted abandoned boy. Who better for him to match with than the broken hearted abandoned girl.

My dream was quickly smashed by daylight and English class. When I walked in he was already at our table and I felt my cheeks heat up at the long lean length of him folded underneath veneered plywood. He seemed too big for this room, for this place even; once again my fears of evil enchanter crept upon my brain. I concentrated very hard on not falling on my way over to the desk, as I got closer to it I realised he was in the window seat! I didn't care if this thing looked like a god and was at least a witch well capable of taking care of themselves: no one takes my window seat! I set my best scowl on my face; I crossed my arms and everything. He just kept staring at the front of the class, though I swore I saw his mouth twitch into a smile (okay I snuck a peak at his mouth I may have been mad but the boy has extremely delectable lips!). Cue the incessant foot tapping and the pointed throat clearing. Once again nothing, though definitely more than a hint of a smirk this time. That was it!

"Excuse me . . .I'm not sure what the seating etiquette is up there in the wild glens and savage mountains of Scotland but here in Upper Lowe if someone is sits in a seat it is generally considered theirs."

That at least got him to look at me (my knees went wonky. I was pathetic!). He stared but didn't say a word, just had a set look of contrition upon those oh so appealing features. Needless to say that only riled me even more.

"Okay then I see I am going to have to put this in layman's terms . . . get out of my seat" my voice was very low and growly, Marith in her oh so eloquent turn of phrase calls it my "ball-shrinker" voice, the smirk got wider but he moved over to the outside chair and waved towards my chair. It didn't feel like much of a victory I had the feeling I was being laughed at. Sure enough when I glanced at him his shoulders (which looked very broad and strong in the regulation pale blue shirt) where shaking. I narrowed my eyes at him letting a little of my irritation leak out towards him. He snorted at me "What? You where getting possessive over an uncomfortable plastic chair that has a broken leg. That is funny." He chuckled some more and I cursed myself as I leaned into the sound of his voice. I was in severe danger of drowning in it. "So are you always that controlling?" why was he asking me questions, and in that infuriatingly teasing voice! "I am not controlling," I answered "I just like this seat! In this place its is the little things that get you through the day, like the squeak of this chair!" Had I just told him that? Where had my editing function gone? Oh yeah It ran out the door to join my self-respect and control of my hormones. I had turned into Marith. I knew living in close quarters with that girl would end badly and most likely with me in a very compromising position. He was shaking his head at me again. That I didn't like. "You're shaking your head. You think I am being ridiculous and petty. Well I think that your intent on finding everything I say extremely amusing in actually quite flattering and I thank you for it. Now stop it." This time he didn't smirk, he just looked, I think I preferred the smirking. "You're not like them are you?" he gestured to Marith and her friends "You aren't a Marith Eventide, who thinks everyone loves her?"

Now I know Marith is a little shallow and self-absorbed, but she is still my cousin. We are like "The Sopranos", you hurt one the rest are going to come and get you! "Okay First: of all you met her yesterday; you don't know what she is like. Second: after living across a very narrow hallway from her for most of my life I am rather protective of her. Do. Not. Judge. Her. And thirdly . . ." now this I am extremely proud of. Whatever strangle hold his Venus flytrap had on me was now broken, and I picked up the complete works of Shakespeare he had on his desk (show off . . . no one carts that around, unless they want to flaunt their knowledge of "the bard", not when the lovely pocket sized will do) and thwacked him over the head with it! Now it was a paperback so the most damage it was going to do was give him a very bad headache, if it had been a hard back he would most certainly be lying in a pool of his arrogant blood right now. Everyone in the class turned round at this point. Thankfully my cheeks were two flushed with anger for the embarrassment to really show. Colin was just sitting there, with a rather dazed look on his face. I would bet my hardback copy "Anna Karenina" that he was seeing a lot of purple dancing monkeys at that point in time. Mr. Purdie turned around from the board with an expression of abject disbelief, and rather shakily told me to pack my things and head to the headmaster's office. I got banned from all field trips for the rest of the year and a six-page essay on the importance of reading fine literature and not using it as a weapon. It was worth it.

I didn't even mind the two-hour lecture on tolerance and impulse control from every adult member of the coven; I also didn't mind the constant bombardment of questions from my peers as to what our newest student had done to deserve a taste of my temper. Everyone knew I had one, they just didn't see it very often. I told everyone that he had insulted Jane Austen, knowing my love of her everyone accepted this explanation. He may have been judgemental but I felt no need in telling everyone about it, especially if he and Marith where to become friends. Once he got to know her he would see that there was more to her, I didn't want to ruin it with a passing comment. Now if only I could have thought that clearly in class, yes I am proud that I dropped a thousand page book on his head (that he deserved) but that didn't mean I was also extremely ashamed. I should have known better than that.

I apologised to him the next day and he accepted it and we haven't spoken a word to each other since. Thankfully.

I looked down at Tana, she was swirling the icing round and round not actually eating any of it. "Well?" I prompted " What about him?" her big brown eyes flashed up to mine, the look on her face was almost fearful. She couldn't possibly be in love with him? I know most girls in school thought they where, but Tana doest normally fall for a pretty face and I know they had talk in their maths class and had become slight friends, was it possible that during their discussions she had fallen for him? They would make a lovely couple, he was just serious enough to make sure that Tana had eaten and finished all her homework, and she would be able to indulge the teasing streak he had in him with her bubbles and sparkle. Tana so desperately wanted to fall in love, find her Mùirn beatha dàn and live happily ever after. If that boy was Colin then I was happy for her. She knew of my dislike for him, but I hadn't told her the reason either. I cursed myself for making her hesitate in telling me about her feelings for him. If it turned out she loved him then I would make a better effort to get to know him.

Tana shook her head, though and mumbled for me to never mind and get on with the gingerbread less my Aunt collapse with stress. We spent the rest of the day happily mucking about the kitchen and avoiding the wrath of Aunt Legh whenever we could. Tonight we would head round to Brian Feenan's traditional "Yule Eve Party". He was the son of Tom and Lucy Feenan and the most liberal and mouthy gay guy I have ever met. The boy's tongue is razor sharp and no one is safe from it. If you feel the need to have someone cut down to size or need a vent for a rant, he is your boy. His Mum and Dad own the Picture House and are very dedicated members of the coven. The party is normally the huge blowout start to the year, it is held in the picture house, which dies have the best sound system in the surrounding area. Every disenchanted teenager from school comes along and we watch every terrible slasher movie there is. There is something extremely satisfying in eating copious amounts of junk food while beautiful people get hacked to death by terrifying monsters and humans alike. Along with the gore and blood of the movies there is also stacks of alcohol, a few illegal substances and a back row that you wouldn't dare sit in until it has been cleaned around twelve times.

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Waking up normally isn't a strong point of mine, but waking up with a hangover in an uncomfy velvet cinema chair, with your best friend's leg slung across your chest. Siobhan was throwing M&M'S, hopefully ones from a new packet and not the ones that Tana and I had been throwing into Lara's Amy Winehouse-esque bird nest (Needless to say our aim did not improve much over the night) , to wake the two of us up. "Alwyn! Come on! We have got to get home and help set up or Mum is going to kill us!" I groaned extremely loudly as I got dragged from my sleeping hollow and pushed out into the cold air of Westmare, without shoes I may add.

Maybe we should have got home earlier; Aunt Legh is throwing Uncle Beck's shoes out of their bedroom window. And while raining wellies and twenty year old trainers is rather funny and vaguely sore, it is not compatible with a seamless sabbat celebration. I wonder if he made her burn something? Or if he decided that he would prefer mulled cider instead of mulled wine? This would have sent my Aunt over the edge and to wardrobe destruction. Slowly and looking skyward for more dive-bombing loafers, we four dirty stop outs snuck into the kitchen, listening very carefully for signs of the discovery of our arrival. Thankfully we each made it to our rooms without being detected. I quickly commandeered the computer and checked my email. Thankfully there was one from Hunter, he had mentioned that he may be able to get home for Yule, he normally tries to as well, but this year there were obvious distractions. I was still rather shell shocked that I even had a half sibling. Well now I technically didn't, but it was still rather weird to know that had existed, someone who shared half of my blood, walked around and talked and made friends and magic and I never even knew it. The day Hunter told me that his next assignment was to investigate our half-sibling and Dad's first wife was at the end of summer.

I was sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper and he came up behind me and tapped my shoulder twice then left went out the back door. For years that was our signal that we needed to talk privately. A couple of minutes later I headed out the back door to find him. He was sitting on my rock. I climbed up next to him and he silently handed me a brown folder. I flipped it open to find a profile on a boy the same age as him. It said his name was Calhoun Blair, coven name Sagth. His mother was Selene Belltower and his father was Daniel Niall, my head whipped round to look at Hunter with an audible crack. "Yes" he said in confirmation. I double checked his date of birth; he was only a couple of months older than Hunter. I flipped to the other page of the file to find Selene's profile. The picture showed a very beautiful woman, with dark olive skin and golden eyes, she was glamorous; no wonder Dad had married her. It also said that she was a suspected member of amyranth and was also suspected of Murder. My stomach twisted at that, was she responsible for my parents abandoning us? Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

I asked Hunter my thought out loud, he agreed that it was a possibility; he would hopefully get some answers when he interrogated her. At that my stomach twisted even more, my brother was going after a very dangerous witch and he had personal reasons to catch her. That would cloud his clarity; I couldn't help but judge the council on their decision to send my brother. Wouldn't it be better to send someone who didn't have a connection to the suspect. Some who in the face of a conflict could act rationally and without letting personal feelings get in the way. Were the council sending my brother on a suicide mission. He was so badly committed to the elimination of evil and to the council's causes that he would never question their methods. But lately there has been unrest within the Wiccan community; some fear the council has become corrupt or lazy. Maybe, with this mission, they saw the chance to make my brother an innocent martyr. Their youngest member killed in rage by his father's first wife, a witch heinously evil. That would ignite rage in the ranks; there would be calls for vengeance, justice. Then a more experienced and less involved witch would be sent after her and would succeed making sure that my last brother's death hadn't been in vain. Was that what they were doing? Making my brother their positive image campaign.

I couldn't voice any of this to Hunter, he was loyal to the council, and my brother's loyalty would last a life time. "What have you to do?" I asked him, my voice was very thin, so much so that I feared the wind would break it. Somehow he heard me. His voice was still when he answered; he was debating within himself what to do or rather how much he should tell me, if he was still deciding on whether or not to take the mission he wouldn't have shown me the files. He was going. Now I just had to wonder how much I would know of reasoning.

"I've to investigate the murder charges and the connection to Amyranth. If the investigation turns up that she is involved with that coven then I have strip her of her powers on the spot, I have also to get all the information on Amyranth form her as possible" at this he looked grim, I felt physically sick, "have you to force it out of her?" my voice was dry with fear. He shook his head at me; "No" he answered me again "All information is to be gathered covertly." "Covertly!" I scoffed " That is the council's way of saying kiss her arse and sing her praises and then turn around and shoot her in the back!" I couldn't help it my bitterness slipped out a little. He gave me that look, the look that told me "you have to stop reading Russian novels before you throw yourself under a train!" I couldn't help my slightly melodramatic reaction I had of course just planned out an entire defence on the part of my family against the council; my head wasn't exactly functioning in its normal gear. He reached his arm around me and pulled me into a hug, an unusual gesture from my stoic brother, but I was grateful none the less for the small comfort. He spoke again: "She may be a good lead to Mum and Dad. And I get a chance to punch our half-brother in the face" I couldn't help but giggle at that and get a stab of jealousy; Hunter always got to be the one to vent violent impulses.

We sat on the rock all night again, reminiscing about our very brief childhoods and concocting revenge plans on the evil first wife and her son. We came up with ritualistic torture a-la Indiana Jones and The Temple of Doom, there was of course the logistical problem of finding a Temple, the Witch-doctors to perform the ritualistic sacrifice and an Indiana Jones-ish person to make sure that we got out alive and hopefully with some gold hidden in our pockets.

Now both Cal and Selene where dead and Hunter had some part in that, at least my fears of martyrdom had been unfounded, my mind still wasn't capable of processing that yet. Tana and I had tried to talk it out one night but it was still too big for either of us to comprehend. Like we were trying to discuss a movie that neither of us had seen. We had left it at that, no one has actually sat me down to talk about it yet which is strange considering that the entire coven are a bunch of nosey buggers. Maybe they just didn't want to ruin that infectious Yuletide sprit and are lying in wait, ready to pounce as soon as the rites are finished.

Hunter isn't coming home yet, neither is Athar. They are both in love, for Hunter it is a first, I think he has only been in lust before. The fact that my stubborn, brooding elder brother has fallen in love makes me want to dance, giggle and tease him all at once. I can't wait until he brings her to meet us though I can't help but feel sorry for the girl. We are a pretty scary lot to meet on mass. I'm not sure what it is with Athar, it seems to be a strange mixture of awe and affection, I don't think it is true deep love, but maybe it is what she needs to bring her out of that protective layer she has got. Regardless of either of their emotional attachments, the council wants Hunter to stay in America, they don't have a resident seeker over the pond. Maybe they have just appointed one.

Isla shouted up to me, everyone is arriving for the circle/knees-up and I need to get my arse down there to help with the drinks. Yule is always such a joyful celebration, filled with light and laughter even though it is in the dead of winter. I think that is what makes it special, because even though everything around is slumbering in the cold, light and the knowledge of warmer seasons can keep you going. It is also vastly comical to see every responsible adult get sloshed and start giving you lectures on how to choose a man and surfing.

The house is filled with noise again, it's nice. "The Hollies" are playing over the stereo and everyone is starting to get to the food coma stage, Aunt Legh has finally relaxed but she hasn't forgiven uncle beck yet, he got a much smaller portion of steak pie. The circle room had been cleared and now was converted into a dance hall; basically it was bare cube. Hopefully the sherry wouldn't be brought out to early and the Abba albums would be dusted off. Seeing your aunt and your best friend's mum do a dance routine (I say dance routine in that they are dancing next to each either they aren't actually doing any of the same moves.) is rather scary and mentally scaring. So much so that if you even catch a snippet of the opening bars to dancing queen you start to hyperventilate. But the party portion of the night is always fun. With lots of wydenkells and vastly varying music taste, the fight at the CD player is always the most interesting of the night. It gets progressively more violent as the number of empty wine bottles increases. Uncle Beck will start the old debate of "Is the High Council Really Necessary to police us?". William has already start telling everyone how to do peas times three spell the proper way, apparently the way that we have been doing it does not yield the optimum shininess in our garden peas. We love him, we do, but he needs to stop the pedantic rule pushing or someone is going to punch him. Gran and old Mrs. Tanoch, our oldest living member who lives out in a cottage near the lighthouse, are doing a compare and contrast of their winter gardens. Aunt Legh and Mrs. Moran have already started planning for Imbolc, they can't even relax for one night. I'm quite happy sitting here in the corner, just watching, it's extremely informative watching people in a relaxed environment some; of their protective layers slip away and you catch a glimpse of what's hidden. Take Uncle Beck, he comes across as cold and hard. It's the way he has been brought up, don't show any weakness, men do not show vulnerability. But right now while he sits amidst the arguing men he is watching Isla and Brian dancing to The Beatles and he has such a sweet smile on his face, he couldn't contain his care at this moment. It was too much for him to handle. When you step out of the shadows you miss those little things, the little moments of affection and hope that shore up your faith in the good of the world.

Tana finally got me up to dance but it was only with the lure of The Stereophonics. It's is something about them that makes me forget that I hate dancing and being in the spotlight. They really just make me want to move and jump around and have fun. I suppose the fact that we sneaked one of the bottles of wine away from the adults clutches and drank it quickly so they couldn't reclaim it also helps.

I spent the rest of the night dancing away and sneaking more wine with the rest of us under agers, we have all been very upset this past couple of months, all of our access to alcohol has been restricted as every over eighteen sibling left the country. Now we are forced to duplicitous means! I do blame Hunter, Sky and Cara for making us break the law and mar our consciences. They however do not see it that way, the lecherous tossers!

********

Light I have, discovered, is an extremely painful thing and very hard to block out. I have finally discovered my alcohol limit apparently it was three bottles of red wine. Now I didn't want to move, my bed was comfy and the position I was lying in didn't make my head to sore or my stomach too queasy. But I could smell food . . . the post sabbat fry up. With an oomph and several swear words that I would never let my Gran hear me utter, I headed downstairs towards the heavenly smells. Everyone was lying in various positions around the living room. Siobhan was flicking through the TV channels, all that was on at this time of day where antique shows featuring The Right Honourable and Orange David Dickinson. Holding my head, I padded into the kitchen, Aunt Legh was at the cooker. Laughing she informed me "That's what you get for not asking to have some wine." "Mmphh" was my only reply as she served me up some breakfast, I carried it back through to the living room and found a spot on the floor.

Spending your collective hangover shouting at the telly and scoffing the food the Aunt Legh periodically brings through. I called Hunter as well, just to see how his Sabbat went. Sober it seems, hah! The pay back for leaving us alcohol less! They just had a small circle with their coven and a little party after, very small and quiet. He still hasn't been told by the council where he is going next. So he is staying put for just now. He said he didn't really want to leave Widow's Vale, it was a nice town and both he and Sky felt marginally at home here. To be fair they did both seem quite happy there, Isla and I however spent around twenty minutes goading the two of them about falling in love. It was a nice little turn around. Years ago when Isla and I avidly watched Sleeping Beauty every day Hunter and Sky would mercilessly tease us about it and tell us the true love didn't exist. They could be very mean when they put their minds to it. Now Isla and I took great delight in their falling in love. Quite a few "Told You So!"s where chanted and I think we probably could have heard Sky's indignant ranting all the way across the Atlantic.

********

I do love school holidays. No more tedious lessons, pragmatic teachers and I don't have to see any of people that go to my school unless I actually want to and I get to spend my entire day at Aife's. Today we got a delivery from our non-magical book supplier, this is my favourite kind of delivery. Hundreds of new and shiny books just sitting there waiting to be taken home and cared for. Yes I do realise that I sound like I am talking about a puppy or something that has biological functions and yes I know that kind of makes me eligible to be taken away by the white van men, but to be honest I think I am okay with that. As long as I could take my books with me to the mental institution, I would stop talking to them honest!

I was still a little hung-over and for some reason the sheer banality of putting stock away in alphabetical order was far better than paracetamol for my headache. It was extremely relaxing and I don't think that Mrs. Moran really minded that much that I was going at a snail's pace either, I think she was still recovering from her brush with Abba. Nobody had come in today, Tana had gotten so bored that she went out for a five minute walk. Two hours ago. I spent the entire day sorting out the fiction section of the non-magic book room, with a very large cup of coffee and a selection box. Just because we don't celebrate Christmas doesn't mean we can't reap the rewards from it, and Cadbury's selection boxes are definitely a reward. "Alwyn!" I heard Mrs. Moran call as she came into the room, "do you think you could lock up in an hour, I have t go send see Mrs. Tanoch for a little while, and we all know that means I won't be back until she has shown me every single picture of her prize winning begonias, why William, that arse kissing suck up, got her a camera I'll never know!" With that she tossed me the keys and left the house. It was strange to have a house to myself, I never have a house to myself what with five cousins, two guardians and an open door policy. It was like a vacuum. Utter silence, and a slither of freedom.

Quickly I cast my senses just to make sure that no one was around, then I went out the back door into the garden, it was raining and I wanted to try something.

I had found some evidence that witches who had a special connection to water could move the rain, literally move it as if by telekinesis. From what I had read I took complete and utter concentration and no interruptions. Hence the not being able to investigate it before now. I settled myself onto the stone slabs of the Moran's back garden. My legs crossed and my face up turned towards the falling droplets. I took a deep breath and went to that little place in my head where everything was underwater. I just got into the rhythm of the rain, getting to know it. I don't know how long I spent listening to it. Just learning and listening to every little drop that fell within the circumference of my circle. I slowly began to unlock my magic, stretch it out and flex it very slowly, just being careful in case I fused myself, I didn't need to feel worse than I already did. I let my magic seep out into the rain so that all the drops now became connected to my soul; I was no longer just listening to them: I was becoming them. I got used to this for a while. It was strange; I could sense all of the rain at once. I felt it leave the cloud, the air outside and the burst when it hit the slabs, it was wonderful. But now to try the moving, I focused on a drop that had just left a cloud. Blocking out all the others I tried to steer that drop towards my uncurled palm. It was working, I could feel it coming closer to me and I almost exploded with joy! And then it went all wrong . . . my concentration slipped and all of the raindrops that where in a meter radius of me fell, in one, on top of me. I was soaking! And I heard laughing, suspiciously deep and male laughter.

I spun around and there leaning against Aife's backdoor like it was his own! Was Colin Nairn! What the hell was he doing here! And why the bloody hell did my heart have to do that around him! I was a little dizzy from all the magic and I was dripping wet my, brain wasn't functioning properly which is the only excuse for what I said next: " C-can I help you?" I stammered, yes I stammered like a five year old with a word with more than one syllable and it only caused Colin to laugh even harder. I hated the fact that his laugh was incredible, was there nothing unattractive about the boy! Oh wait . . .yeah, I remember now . . .he is an arse! I stomped passed his cackling form into the kitchen. I grabbed a towel from the linen cupboard and put the kettle on. I definitely needed a cup of tea. I noticed he was still sniggering a little as he sat down at the kitchen table. I dammed my aunt for teaching me good manners as they kicked in now to offer him a cup of tea. He just nodded trying to get his breath back.

Quickly I made the tea and sat his mug down in front of him, sitting in the seat opposite him I began to towel off my hair and heat myself up with my tea. I was too mad to talk and he seemed to be watching, waiting to see what I would do. Eventually I suppose his patience wore out, that was good to know, I was far more stubborn than he was. When he spoke though it wasn't condescending or even teasing: "You have to keep sending a constant stream of magic to the water to move it, that's all you did wrong." My head snapped up. He had known what I was doing. "I put up blocking spells how did you know I was trying to move the rain?" I went on to high alert, only a very string witch could have gotten round my blocking spells without my knowledge of it and only one with an alternative motive would want to. I watched him closely as he formulated his answer, he had noticed the jump in my senses. "I was out walking and I felt the strong pull of someone trying to work with the water, it's my element as well and I have just as strong a connection to it as you do." I relaxed a little, that was plausible I suppose but that didn't excuse him from spying. Or for laughing. "I'm still trying to control it, I've only recently stopped blowing up toiliets every time I get annoyed." Why I told him that I have no idea, I think the shock had broken my filter. "It's not easy, I know, I still burst a pipe every time I get annoyed." He replied, "I don't think we will ever be able to completely stop that from happening." I nodded, it was something I had been wondering about. People associated with water are notoriously emotional and emotions don't bode well with magickal control. "When did you discover your abilities?" he asked. I cringed a little at the memory, "It was when I was initiated. My uncle was telling me a very upsetting story. We were out on one of the headlands and as I was getting more and more upset the waves got higher and higher and I began to shake, eventually he had to grab me and help me guide the magic out of my system before I caused a storm. How did you find yours?" I asked once I was finished. He ducked his dark head when I asked, he looked like he was in pain. I retracted "You don't have to tell me, you don't exactly have to tell your secrets to the girl who dropped a two kilo book on your head." He laughed again at that, "It's not that, it's more I just don't like taking about how I found out." I nodded keeping things private was something I understood. "Thanks for tea, I've got to get home." He stood up and smiled at me, my heart flip-flopped, I walked him to the door as I was watching him walk away, he turned around: "Keep trying!" He called to me; "It gets easier, I promise." He smiled again and vanished around the corner. If this is how he talked to Tana in maths I could understand how she had fallen for him, he didn't seem like an arse at all. Goddess help me!

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	4. Chapter 3: Plays and Moonlight

**Hello again!**

**I'm extremely sorry it has taken me so long to update this story but a combination of writers block and addictive one shots (marshmallow lambuts to some) it has taken me longer than usual to write this. **

**I hope you are happy with it. Leave any thoughts for me if you so wish.**

**Now without further delay I present to you the third chapter of What About The Little Sister.**

**KeroaucinaHackney**

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Chapter 3: Plays and Moonlight

_December 29__th_

_I've found the power draw that Dad was looking for. She is stronger than she knows. And her control is terrible but she has a connection to the water that goes beneath the surface, she has the potential to be great. I should get closer to her now; make her trust me so that dad can study her. But she is guarded, and impulsive. It may be hard for me get close to her. I suppose I have to try._

_I'm also rather worried about spending time with her, I don't think she realises how intriguing she is and I could feel myself being drawn into her. My head was sore for days after she dropped that book on me and she apologised to me the day after and then never even looked at me again. I was annoyed at her for not talking to me, I wanted her to talk to me and I don't know why. I had to get out of the house yesterday, Dad had invited round Dr. Reynolds and Lara, who has been getting increasingly annoying. So I decided to go for a walk, I could see the clouds rolling in and it was exactly what I needed. _

_I had just reached one of the headlands when I felt it; someone was connecting with the rain. I followed it and found myself in a tiny little town: it was Westmare, I hadn't been here before but I knew this was the home of Vinneag and of Alwyn. It was quaint, quiet and rather inconsequential. I followed the trail of the magic up to an old house that had been converted into a shop. It literally smelled of magic in here, it was old and homely and rather fascinating. But the pull of the person creating magick was too strong for me to go roaming around this place. I went through to the kitchen, which was filled with every herb imaginable, and to the back door which was open and filled with magic. _

_And there she was sitting on the slabs getting soaked through, trying desperately to get a drop to land on her palm, I felt one start to move towards her and then she must have lost her concentration, because all the drops around her basically attacked her. I couldn't help but laugh, it was rather hilarious. She spun around absolutely sodden and looking thoroughly pissed. I also noticed for the first time, she was gorgeous, the thought scared me almost as much as the look on her face. _

_I sat and talked to her for almost an hour it was strange, it was the first time I had gotten her to talk to me and it was just as I had hoped even though I didn't know what I had hoped it to be. It was nice, calming and not insipid like most other conversations. The worst thing is she is making me question things; I don't like that, I like the way things are right now and I am perfectly happy with my views and don't particularly want to have them questioned, especially by a girl who has never seen anything of the world or had any experiences conductive to a valid opinion. But talking to her was fun, the most fun I have had in a long time. I also have a job to do and she is the subject and if I don't get it done Dad will never trust me again. I was almost late home. As I was leaving I knew I didn't really want to. This girl was dangerous and I had to get to know her. _

_When I told Dad I found a possibility for him, he told me to investigate further. I felt fear now. I think I was hoping for him to tell me to stay away, that way I had never had to talk to her again. But now I had to and the thought really really worried me. _

_Teàrlach_

School had been back for a couple of weeks and something strange had happened. I was talking to Colin; I wasn't shouting at him, wasn't being teased but was actually talking. We didn't talk about anything terribly important and we didn't talk about banalities either. It was a strange mixture of philosophy and rubbish that was entirely satisfying, like a berry swirl after a long walk in the wind. It was entirely nice to walk into English and ramble, I still had the feeling that he looked down upon me sometimes, that I was viewed as an object of rather entertaining amusement. It bothered me, but I couldn't call him on it until I knew for sure that is what he was doing. I probably wouldn't know for sure until years later when he has published his Memoires and I am an intriguing subplot worth mentioning for sheer hilarity's sake.

It also didn't help that he was addictive, his laugh, his silly secret smile, the way his nose scrunched when he disagreed with an opinion or someone got something terribly wrong. The fact that he would twirl a pen in his fingers and doodle on his notebook when he was bored. I held a strange fascination with watching the bones tendons and muscles in his hand while he wrote; it seemed like an essential part of him. That the skin and the blood beneath his right hand was a peek inside him, and it spoke of his ability to do something. But it was his voice that lulled me the most, his accent rougher and smoother than mine. I always had to resist the urge to close my eyes and let myself drown in the rapids of his deep lilting voice. I was constantly gripping on to a tree branch, palms ripped and bloody. While half of my body was being pounded by frozen water begging me to let go and slip into the waves. I had never been like this, never been one of those silly little girls who stare longingly across the ball, or ply wood table, at the object of their affections. I was not going to become one of those girls. I would not doodle his name on my notebook, I would not sit and daydream about him and I will not stare!

So today I just have to talk to him like a normal person would. Which may be difficult considering that I am not a normal person and never have been. Tana kept on asking me what was wrong. I think she thought I had started reading "I Capture The Castle" again which always makes me all discombobulated and pensive. She almost made me give my copy to Cancer Research. I tackled her before she could even get it out of my room. I had never been more thankful that Hunter had taught me how to fight. She started yelling at me that it really didn't matter if none of them got a happy ending because it was a book and fiction and had no relevance to my life whatsoever so I had no right being mopey-dopey over it. I had to reassure for half an hour and buy her yum-yum's before she was convinced, it really eats into your lunch hour having a hypochondriac friend.

I haven't told her yet that I may have feelings, slight and not at all consequential, for Colin. I know that there is the possibility that she has them also, but the subject has not come up between us again and I am starting to obsess about it. Which isn't good. Because when I obsess I get frantic and slightly unbalances, well slightly more unbalanced, and loose all sight of reality. Which is rather ironic considering that obsessing is really just very deep thinking which all philosophers do and they claim to be able to see the world clearly. So why is it that when I think deeply I get more confused. It's really not fair. Isla says I should start going by what my feelings are telling me to do. The problem with that is I am a Niall and we never have a very good time dealing with our feelings. We prefer to think, to brood and eat ice cream in inhuman amounts when we are conflicted. That is our way and there is not much wrong with it apart from the whole people thinking you're plotting to kill them thing, that's not so good. It's not that we do not have feelings or are not aware of them, but rather our rationality takes over to justify the feelings.

It was Monday, I felt the tingly anticipation all through lunch at getting to see Colin, sit next to him, talk to him for the next two hours solid. Tana asked me three times if she could see my biology homework before I even realised that she had been talking to me. "What is the matter with you lately? You can't seem able to concentrate on anything and you are one of the most focused people I know!" she was right, I couldn't seem to concentrate. In the past couple of weeks I had knocked over around ten glasses of water, without being near them, made the toilet flush of its own accord and turn on all the taps in Biology. My control had been shot because the part of my brain that I reserved for my control had been filled up with a certain member of the male gender, along with the rest of it. I was clinging onto the edge of a cliff grappling for some semblance of control, control that half of my brain didn't really seem to want. This was very very bad. The bell has just gone it would be bad to run to class right?

Walking in to class, my head swivelled in the direction of our table. There he was, already doodling away, his head flicked up when he saw me and he smiled a greeting as I made my way across the class room. His eyes looked tired today, in fact he felt tired as well, depleted somehow. "So did you raise hell on Siobhan for writing on your copy of "The Romance of The Forest." Or did you come up with some duplicitous means of revenge?" he was referring to last week, when I came into glass thundering like a gorgon who just saw her evil beloved and her powers failed her all because when I took out my copy of aforementioned novel I found it covered in the precise scrawl of Siobhan, it was her notes from that nights "Andrew Marr Show". "I found a duplicitous means of revenge. I recorded over her tape of "Question Time" that she hadn't dissected and ranted about yet with the newest episode of whatever show Trinny and Suzanna are doing at the moment." He smirked, but still looked like my words where only half reaching him; "So why Trinny and Suzanna? Why not Topgear, to really rub in the political incorrectness." So he did still have cognitive function, this was good. "Beacuse if I used Topgear she would have known it was me and then she would have retaliated, but with Trinny and Suzanna there are many suspects and all quite capable of forgetting about her tape in the recorder, hence my books are safe from any further graffiti and Anne Radcliffe has been avenged." He looked rather amazed. "You do realise that you could probably match a terrorist for scheming ability." His sense of humour is still intact then, also good. "Why thank you!" I replied. Just then Mr. Purdie came in and started the lesson.

As usual, Colin and I finished the work early and we started talking in whispers while everyone else finished. I finally asked him if he was okay. He nodded, but it was marred a little by the huge yawn he was trying to stifle.

"Are you sure? Because I have seen corpses with a better blush than you have." I was trying to make a joke of his obvious sleepiness, but he wasn't having it.

"Yes Alwyn! I'm sure, I know if I am alright or not, I'm just tired. And the reason you have seen corpses with more colour is because they put make up on the dead to make them seem alive." Wow, okay so he was snarky when he was tired.

"Well I am sorry for asking." I replied snippily, he had just ruined my good mood, the grumpy arse. Now I couldn't wait to get away from him. If he wasn't going to at least be polite then I had no intention of talking to him. Dammit! I just looked at the clock, still ten minutes left of school. I could be in a huff with him for ten minutes. Just watch and see if he tries to apologise. I won't even acknowledge it. Though no response seemed to be forthcoming, not even a mumbled sorry, he sat sullenly looking straight ahead though blinking a lot, because he was desperately trying not to fall asleep. Hah! Serves him right for snapping! May his insomnia continue for his insolence. Five minutes to go. Just before the bell went and I was free from Mr. Purdie, told us to stop and listen to our homework assignment for next week.

Creative writing tasks have never bothered, in fact they are normally quite fun and entertaining. But this one was to be a collaboration. A play. Four people to a team. Two actors, a writer and a director. I have never wanted to hurt Mr. Purdie before, now I was considering acquainting him with my temper, or my right hook. This impulse only got stronger as he put us into our groups. Mr. Purdie's imagination must have failed him because he basically put two desks together. So that left me with Mr. Cranky next to me and Rachel Manning and her best and slightly dim friend Claire Roth. I have nothing wrong with these girls. They are nice enough and probably would never hurt someone intentionally. But they will also never dazzle someone with their wit and understanding. They sat in front of Colin and I and spun around with very happy looks on their faces, I don't think they were happy to work with me. The bell went and almost everyone jumped up to try and rush out of the door, Mr. Purdie, however, had other ideas. I swear that man is trying to make me hate him. he yelled at us to stop and wait just a couple of minutes. He explained to us that we would have the next four periods of class time to work on this assignment. He stressed to us that this however would not be enough to produce a piece of little if any quality. So he pleaded us to at least work on it outside of school hours, our lunch hours, the three minutes of adverts between Coronation St. and Emmerdale. It didn't take us long to tell him that no one actually watches those soaps anymore, at least no one under the age of thirty five.

"So we should meet then and get this play thing sorted out?" Rachel had blocked both Colin and I's way out of the classroom, obviously she was not getting our hastiness to leave the room and each other. Claire nodded emphatically, showing her enthusiasm. Enthusiasm I suspect that was brought to life by the thought of spending time talking to Colin, wait until she finds out he has decided to become a mime in later life and has begun practising. Not that I can say much ... well because I wasn't saying much. "Well I say tonight and we get it done quickly." Rachel said again not at all upset my our unresponsiveness. "Unfortunately it cannot be at my house since it my mother's book club and she doesn't like any disruptions." Claire nodded again, I was beginning to wonder if she could do any other process of communication. Colin and I both looked a little concerned for her. "We can't have it at mine either," Wow she speaks! "My mother is at her Mothers book club and I'm not allowed people over without supervision." They both looked hopefully towards Colin, I think he should lock his underwear drawer. He however said, "Not Mine." What no explanation sir? I realised then, being pulled out of my inner mocking monologue, that I was the only one left. "We could go to my house. But I would like to apologise beforehand for: excessive pushing of baked goods onto your person, consistent yet sporadic explosions and yells, A lot of blonde hair everywhere and the constant interruptions." They all just looked at me, "Well come on then!" I walked out of the door, calling over my shoulder, "call home as well, you won't be home for dinner."

********

I have never seen my house as shabby or a victim of a hard life, but standing in front of it with three practical strangers, I saw it as they would. A rather run down and dilapidated house, with an old broken swing hanging from the front tree and rather strange noises coming from inside. I cringed. Then got really pissed at myself. Why the hell was I embarrassed! This place was my home, it was a little off kilter and quite loud but I loved it and I would be dammed if they were going to mock it. I spun around to the little congregation of people behind me; "Come on," I waved my hand for them to follow me as I headed round to the back garden, "We have to go in the back door because the front door hasn't opened since Cara tried to do a mend a broken arm spell on Isla who broke the swing, and she sealed the door shut instead." Rachel and Claire just looked rather frightened, I forgot that they weren't witches. Well this was going to be interesting for them. Colin was still sullen, he hadn't said a word, the whole bus ride to Westmare, then the walk out to the house. I wondered if he was actually going to speak again. Claire and Rachel had followed me inside, but Colin hovered at the back door. "We won't bite you know, well yet anyway!" he gave me a faint smile and shook his head as if it was waterlogged but stepped inside our kitchen. Aunt Legh was there already cooking tonight's dinner, I sniffed; "Lasagne? Is Gran coming over for dinner?" She shook her head; "No dear, she was over earlier discussing coven things and on her "Italian" heritage, it put me in the mood for pasta." Then she noticed my little study group behind me, "Oh Alwyn! You should have mentioned you were bringing home friends," she swatted me with a tea towel, "We have to write a play for homework. We'll be in the living room if you need me." I went into the hall motioning for the others to follow me. Aunt Legh called after me; "Yell if you want food okay!" I smiled, good old Aunt Legh, "I will!" I called back as I entered the living room.

Our living room had never been redecorated in my life time. We had three threadbare couches which were set out in three quarters of a square. The walls were a faded duck egg blue and the window faced out onto the front garden, with the tree lined drive way in view. I motioned for the rest of them to sit down on the couches, I moved my way around the low wooden table in the middle towards the fireplace to light the hearth. I wasn't kidding about the no central heating thing and in January the house gets cold After a few moments and some wrestling with the lighter the flames came to life. adding some much needed warmth to the room.

Rachel and Claire had occupied one couch, I guess it was safety in numbers. Colin sat on the one that faced the fire, digging through his backpack. It was ridiculous how much I craved to go and sit next to him, to feel close to him. I opted for the empty couch, one because I didn't want to do something crazy like jump him and two because I was still a little mad at him.

"So we should get started." Colin stated. So he was in a hurry then. Rachel and Claire agreed with him, by, wait for it ... nodding! They could put the Churchill dog to shame.

"We should agree on who is doing what. Does anyone have a preference?" I asked, Colin shook his head. But Rachel spoke up, "My Mummy says I am a brilliant actress so it would be only proper that I do that." Okay remember I said she was a nice girl. I'm beginning to think that it was just an example of her brilliant acting skills. "And I also think our play should be romance!" Once again Claire nodded her head, speaking is obviously limited with her. Rachel was actually batting her eyelids at Colin, making her look as if she had something in her eye. Colin had paled, making him now look anaemic. I had to go to the boy's rescue before he got roped into this. "I don't think we should do romance, it always comes out rather mills and boon when amateurs write it and that would just be embarrassing. So we should do something small, like a snippet from real life, a little scene from normality." Colin was the one to nod his head this time and shot me a smile of thanks. I hate the fact that smile made my heart flutter even when I was mad at him but what shocked me most was what he said next; "I think Alwyn should write it, she has definitely read the most books out of is all I think that makes her the most qualified." I had to smile at him then. I did secretly want to write it, but I would never have voiced it aloud. "I would like that, if nobody else would mind?" Everyone agreed that I would be the writer much to my relief. Colin looked at me as I accepted the position, his blue eyes straight into mine. I could feel myself getting lost in the Icy lightness of them. I could imagine myself dancing, staring up into them, see them smiling down at me from a great height and string off into the distance the colours of the sunset reflected. But my mind wasn't making up these fantasies it was more like this was a picture he was trying to show me, he was looking at me with such intensity that I could feel my bones shake with want, my arms actually ached to feel them and my vision was going blurry, I felt the rapids begin to pull in just a little more as he said, "So then all that is left to decide is the other actor and director." I felt the blush set upon my cheeks as I realised that Rachel and Claire were still here, suddenly the room was stifling and I couldn't get enough oxygen into my lungs. "urmm, you guys talk it out I'm just going to go and get us some tea and biscuits?" with my almost non-coherent stammering I ran out of the room and into the kitchen to try and catch my breath. In the hall I could hear the water pipes clunking and groaning, I really hoped that someone was taking a shower and that it wasn't me about to lose control and burst the pipes again!

I leaned against the wall in the kitchen trying to stop my knees from shaking as Aunt Legh came rushing over looking concerned. She felt my forehead and asked me if my stomach was sore, I shook my head; "I'm just a little flustered, I'm going to make tea for us would you like a cup?" I hoped she would get the message that I didn't want to talk about the cause of my temperature rise. One of the best things about Aunt Legh is that she understands the need for secrets. I guess she knows what it is like to be a teenage girl and have everyone of your coven know exactly what is going on with you when you are still trying to figure it out for yourself. So she tries to give us all a little privacy, that I am grateful for. I dug out a tea pot and some mugs, along with some biscuits. Maybe the distraction of Chocolate would keep my mind off the distraction of Colin so I could focus on what we were meant to be doing. And not the fact that I wanted him all alone and looking at me like that again.

I went back down the hall precariously balancing the bounty laden tray, I was glad to hear the ominous clunking had ceased. Back in the living room there seemed to be a lot of discussion, Rachel ha her notebook out and was scribbling furiously; Claire was looking over Rachel's shoulder, nodding, she is most definitely going to kill off whatever brain cells she has left. Colin was sitting back on the couch, smiling a little, I knew that smile, that was his "I'm finding this utterly amusing" smile. What had he done? I put the tray on the table, and turned round to give him a very accusing look, he just looked at me with a very innocent look on his face. I was no worried as to what he had done, I had a feeling that this was going to be very bad for me. "Have you decided then?" I asked tentatively. Most people would think that I was worrying about nothing, but I knew how devious he could be and I wasn't going to become another punch line in one of his experiments. Rachel answered me; "Yes we have, Claire will be the other actress and Colin will be our director." Oh, right, okay then, which means I will have to work closely with him while writing the scene. I think my heart just stopped. I grabbed a cup of tea and busied myself with drinking it while I regained my ability to speak. Also trying to force my head away from the imaging's of spending hours alone together, working late, becoming impassioned about our masterpiece. I really need to stop reading drama, it is going to my head.

We spent the next two hours, working out stuff for the scene, basically I took down any requirements they each had. There weren't many, Rachel's only one was that her character be called Freya and always hold an apple. So she also had delusions of grandeur, but that I could work with. No one else had any suggestions so thankfully we had pretty much finished, not, however, soon enough for them to escape before dinner. Aunt Legh came in just as they were Packing up their bags and harangued them into staying for dinner, citing that we had enough food and that it would only go to waste if they didn't say and that would be a travesty because of all the starving people in the world. She really does have the emotional blackmail think down, it's quite impressive. So they were staying for dinner. She sent them into the kitchen where almost everyone else was already seated, and I got sent around the house rustling up three more chairs. I did feel like I was sending little defenceless lambs into a den of perfectly primped lionesses.

Everything seemed okay when I got back, no blood was splattered on the walls, everyone still had a head. So it wasn't too bad ... yet. What did strike me as odd though was that Uncle Beck instead of latching onto Colin, the only other male in the room had surrounded himself with Freya the great and the nodding churchillette. My eyes flicked to Marith, who was sitting next to Colin, her eyes caught mine and gleamed as I silently asked her about her father's situation. _"we decided to see how long it would take him to jump and say he would eat his dinner in the living room. I have twenty quid on ten minutes" _hmmm interesting bet, I flicked again to Uncle Beck as I sat down, he was clutching his cutlery rather tightly but no mark of distress had yet to appear on his face, he still had a good fifteen minutes in him. "_Put me down for twenty on twenty minutes." _I told Marith who nodded and then returned her attention to Colin. Who I might add was looking between my cousins and I. He was trying to work out what we were doing. I smiled sweetly, he didn't have to know about our nightly gambles on our patriarchs temper. I spun round to Isla on my left and claimed her concentration so I didn't get sucked into the pool of his eyes for the second time in less than an hour.

Dinner went off pretty much without a hitch or any major catastrophes. Uncle Beck did jump up and rush out of room at which moment Siobhan whipped out her watch and declared it twenty minutes from the beginning of dinner. All new comers looked slightly confused, Aunt Legh was shaking her head; "I wish you girls would stop making a profit on your fathers temper, it's hardly a very nice thing to do." She was smiling however, and the berating was only half hearted. After that the conversation circled around our various schemes to annoy my uncle. We were all in fits of laughter as Marith recreated his face when we changed the butter to margarine and he thought Aunt Legh was trying to get him to lose weight again. Even Colin couldn't maintain his usual quiet snigger and burst out a loud bark of a laugh, like the one I heard when he found me soaked and pissed at Aife's. I was horrified to realise that the sound made my skin erupt in a plethora of happy Goosebumps. After we had finished, Isla and I got up to clear the table, it was our night. I was pleasantly surprised when Colin jumped up and started to help us; "It's alright I said Isla and I can handle it we are seasoned experts with the fairy liquid and greeny besides you will give my Aunt Legh ideas that men can actually do the washing up and then my Uncle will come and hunt you down and string you up for eating into his daily mail time." He smiled and conceded his handful of plates over to me. Aunt Legh was busy serving up The Trifle for desert. While Rachel complained about calories and Claire nodded, we all stopped talking, stunned. No one in the history of the world has ever refused The Trifle, its thick custard, clotted cream, delicious strawberry jelly and raspberries hidden throughout. The Trifle is sacrosanct, The Trifle is a god and if you refuse The Trifle you shall be smited by black belt warriors of the pudding gods. You don't mess with them. Aunt Legh looked like she was on the verge of tears: "Oh ... well if you don't want any I'm sure the others won't mind a little bit more." Now that is just not nice, and you do not make Aunt Legh cry while we are here. I was the only one to speak up "No Aunt Legh they can try a bit. A few extra calories isn't going to do them any harm." I threw a murderous look towards them, both mutely agreed. I went back to the washing up and smirked when I heard Claire exclaim; "OH MY GOD THIS IS FANTASTIC!" Ahh the power of The Trifle, it can even move mute nodder's to emphatic exclamation.

Rachel had called her father to come and pick her up, which was good because I don't think I could resist the temptation of walking along a dark headland with her and not giving her a slight nudge over the cliff. The downside however was that it meant I had to walk with Colin, alone, all the way back to the village. My heart was hammering out the soundtrack to Mamma Mia against my ribcage. With Colin loaded up with leftovers and a thousand invitations to come again, we headed out into the night.

For the first while we walked in silence, neither quite knowing what to say to the other. It wasn't uncomfortable or strained, rather more like each was getting their breath back after a long run. Collecting their thoughts. It was a rare clear night, the moon hung out over the sea casting a silver guild on the water and sand, the waves where hushed and not a breath of wind stirred the leaves on the headland. Alwyn couldn't help but extend her senses to feel the calm around her, so unusual for here that is normal brimful with energy that nothing can stay still, but tonight it was all still the same strong energy lay still and straight, for once knowing exactly what it was and bounding on to the next stage. It would be lovely if it could be like this all the time. Alwyn took a deep breath smelling the salt, earth and woods around, and let the feeling build up in her stomach that made her feel secure and at peace, and like a sleepy five year old who wanted to be read a story and have her hair smoothed as she fell asleep.

"Thank you for dinner," Colin's quiet voice snapped her out of the lull she had gone into. "Your family are lovely, a little insane, but so happy." I smiled and looked over my shoulder at the house behind us, you could still see the faint glow of the lights. "I don't think I have ever laughed so much in my life, at my house it's just Dad and I and we normally talk about his research." For the first time I felt sorry for him, he didn't have the large family I had, or a Coven that felt like family. He just had him and his Dad. "Is it lonely, just the two of you?" I asked softly. "We have Nettie as well, our housekeeper, more like our guardian angel. She makes sure that we eat and have clean clothes and actually realise that there is a world outside of the study. She's a fantastic cook though I have to say your Aunt may be able to rival her in the kitchen.." I stared at him disbelievingly, no one was as good as my Aunt. But he just smiled at me and carried on; "But dinner's are never like that, Nettie refuses to eat at the same table as us, she has old fashioned ideas about employee/employer interaction, but never gives a second thought to chewing one of us out when she feels we are being stubborn or ridiculous. But there is hardly ever any laughter, it's always intellectual conversation." He sounded bitter at that. "I wouldn't mind a bit of intellectual conversation once in a while, or a little bit of quiet. Normally our house is so full of people you can't think straight let alone come forth with your views on the world." He began to speak again; "You all know each other inside out, it's nice to watch you all bicker and mock each other. But you can tell you all love each other and god help the person who decides to hurt one of you." I nodded; "We all ready have contingency plans for when it happens and we believe we have planned the perfect the murder." He snorted, "And, may I ask what it is?" I shook my head; "Sorry but if I tell you then not only will I have to kill you but I will then spontaneously combust and burn to my death." He looked at me with soft eyes and whispered, "Well we wouldn't want that now would we." I couldn't breathe, my heart had stopped, in fact I think that every working function in my body had ceased. I was a blob. And he was so close. With his big warm body, and that heart achingly gentle look in his eyes. If I didn't look away I was going to faint. I spun around and kept on heading down the trail, willing my heart to start again and hoping that I didn't just ruin the only time he would look at me like that. I didn't look round to check that he was still following me, I could feel him and hear his clumsy steps on the ground.

We didn't talk again until we reached the village. Which was desolate and most of the houses in darkness. I lead him to the bus stop. "You don't have to wait with me you know." He said as I sat down on the worn bench, "It's okay. I don't mind staying and I'll probably go up and visit Tana after." He nodded and sat down next to me. I hadn't realised it was a cold night before, I began to shiver and wish I had picked up my gloves. I was also extremely aware of him sitting quite close next to me, I could practically feel his skin next to mine, which was ridiculous because we where both wearing many layers. But I couldn't repress the shudder that ripped though my spine.

What happened next shocked me even more, he reached his arm around me and pulled me snug into his side. I was in heaven (Or at least the wiccan equivalent) , I was going to die. He began to tell me off; "You should have put on a hat, a scarf maybe, you know these things invented to keep you from dying of pneumonia, while you freeze your arse off needlessly on a bus stop." His hand started to rub up and down my back trying to warm me up, the sensation however only caused me to shiver more, but I noticed the bear pale skin on his hand. So I flicked my eyes to his neck, he wasn't wearing any either! "You aren't wearing them. What's going to save you from catching it." I said rather huffily, to be honest I was surprised it came out in English and not gibberish. He just snorted at me; "I grew up in the highlands, this is summer weather for me, I wouldn't be cold even if I was in my underwear." He just had to say that didn't he, and cause any improvement I had made in control in proximity to him fly out the window with my sense of reason. I had no problems with the cold now, I felt my entire body heat up but he still kept me close. "What time is the next bus at anyway?" he asked me, I checked the time on my phone in my pocket, it was half past eight, "The next one is in fifteen minutes." I replied. He looked around; "Is there no where else we can wait, you're going to catch a cold." I shook my head; "Sorry, the only place would be Temptations and it closes at eight o'clock on a Monday. Anyway I'm not that cold anymore." He snorted; "Yeah that's just the fever setting in." He scoffed, but he pulled me closer, I swear if I got any closer to him I was going to have a heart attack. But my hands acted against the better judgement of my head and they slid around his waist, I felt his muscles contract at the contact, but his other arm came down around me so that I was cocooned in them. His hand came up to stroke my hair. My heart was now beating wildly, but everything else was calm. I felt the same thing I had on the headland earlier, the same sense of peace but with the added thrill of being close to Colin. I was dreading the bus coming and breaking this up. Whatever this was.

"Alwyn? Is that you there girl?" Colin and I shot apart in shock, I looked up and found old Mr. Dunn standing there, his white beard crusted with frost and his telescope under his arm. "Yes Mr. Dunn, it's me." I jumped up from the bench to face him.

"Well what the blazin' hell are doing out on a night like this, you'll catch yer death!" he exclaimed, his old eyes finally focused on Colin behind me.

I rushed to explain. "Colin is the director and I'm the writer and we have to do a scene and then there was The Trifle and the moon and he has to get the bus home so that would be why we are here, at the bus stop, waiting for a bus."

I don't think Mr. Dunn really heard me because he started to speak to Colin. "You lad, come here!" Colin's wary eyes flicked to mine but I nodded for him to do as he is told. He stood up beside me, he towered over both Mr. Dunn and I. "Tall lad isn't he!" he pointed to Colin but spoke to me, "And what exactly is your name boy?" I cringed, this was going to be all around town by tomorrow, I could practically feel the curtain twitching around us.

"Colin Nairn Sir." He responded ducking his head, I don't think I had ever seen him embarrassed before. Mr Dunn's eyes lit up, "Scottish are you?" his hard tone had now melted into delight, I groaned inwardly as I remembered his slight obsession with Scotland. It had started with a trip up there to see his daughter and I think they pumped him full of so much whiskey that he had the best time of his life. "Fabulous place, I'll tell you, me daughter is up there with her husband and what not, a jock, you know and they have such a nice place. I went up there a year ago or so and they took me to all the castles and to Loch Ness, I didn't see the monster mind you, but I suppose she is shy, what with all the tourists." I could see Colin looking rather scared and I stifled my laugh quickly; "and we went to this lovely restaurant, I cannae remember the name o' it but it was a lovely place, food was fantastic and I even tried haggis, which wasn't at all as horrible as some people make it out to be and I have never met nicer people all so chatty and with a brilliant sense of humour. Mind you they would have to have to be able to wear a kilt, I can't imagine how cold those things would be." Colin now looked incredulous, I couldn't blame him, Mr. Dunn is always interesting to talk to. Quickly I jumped in; "Did you see anything good tonight through Tallulah, Mr. Dunn?" Tallulah is his telescope, he likes to name things, his bike is called Frederick. He turned his attention to me; "I was up on the hill there having a look too see if I could Jupiter, now I'm sure I caught a little glimpse of her, or at least I did of the people sitting on her rings." Did I mention that he was a bit screwy? "they where orange you and had hair not unlike yours, me girl" he motioned towards my head.

"Did they, well when you figure out how to contact them can you ask them how they get it so shiny all the time, because I have trouble with that." Colin looked at me like I had just declared I was actually a dragon and was about to fly away with them on my back and take them into dragon land.

"I shall indeed. Not to worry, I'm quite close now to perfecting my Transmolcicfuser, so I shouldn't be too far off, I just need some more sticky tape but would you believe that the people in Tesco won't sell me anymore, just because I got a little stuck in the soup aisle. You would think I had done something wrong!"

"Of course not Mr. Dunn, I just don't think they liked your idea of the personal basket but I'm sure if you test drive the idea in Asda through at Upper Lowe they will accept it. Asda has always been more open minded, remember when they brought in the world food's aisle."

"Oh yes, what a good idea me girl. She a smart one this one, but she can dance like her mother," he informed Colin, I looked away, I hated it when people compared me to my mother. It annoyed me because I had no idea what she was like, so I couldn't tell if they were just being nice or actually meant it.

Mr. Dunn's attention soon turned back to me, "I'll need to come up and see your Uncle, I have very important news to discuss with him. it has to do with the sprites I saw the other day and I fear for our spring gardens, pesky little buggers you know, always wanting to make a garden pretty with no heed to the scientific placement of plants, my garden always ends up in a mess. My mint always strangles my rosemary. I think I have almost got the spell to keep them away perfected, but I need another person's eye on it to make sure I haven't missed anything."

The bus came around the corner at that point and I quickly waved it down. "Well that would be your bus lad, it was nice talking to you and you had better take care of that girl or we'll all be after you!" These where Mr. Dunn's last words as he headed to his house. I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment. "I'll see you at school." That was all he said. My embarrassment increased ten-fold. I gave him a small wave as the bus left. I stood there reeling in shock, not able to move. Quickly I turned on my heel and sprinted towards Tana's house.

7


End file.
